Shallow End. Brenda Chapman
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known that Fiona wasn’t going to let him go easily. After each session, he’d returned to the office stone-faced and uncommunicative and Kala hadn’t encouraged him to talk about it.
Fiona straightened from a crouched position and said something to her assistant. Then she climbed the rocks until she stood a few feet from Kala. Even from the short distance away, she had to speak loudly above the noise of the wind and waves battering the shore.
“No ID on his body. He was dragged down the hill but he was already dead.”
“How did he die?”
“Blunt force trauma. The back of his head is a mess. Whoever hit him wasn’t holding back. He took a couple of good blows. I’d say somebody was extremely angry.” Fiona glanced at her before looking away and the words hung an unspoken challenge between them. Kala was tiring of this silent game but felt helpless to end it.
Fiona started climbing and passed as close to Kala as she could without brushing against her. “I’m cold and want to get out the wind. I’ll have my report later this afternoon.”
Kala waited a few moments before turning to follow her. She looked up and saw two paramedics who were carrying a stretcher appear at the top of the incline with Gundersund following behind. He met Fiona and stopped to speak with her before continuing on down the hill toward Kala. His mouth was set in a grim line.
“The station received a call that a seventeen-year-
old boy named Devon Eton is missing. He didn’t come home last night but his parents thought he was at his friend’s place. They often played video games late and Devon would sleep over. This morning his mother found out he wasn’t there and hasn’t been able to find him any of the other places she thinks he might have gone.”
“Do you have a description?”
“From what Fiona just told me, he matches the kid down on the rocks.” Gundersund looked toward the body. His blond hair was beaten straight back by the wind. He raised his voice to be heard above the breaking waves. “The mother was upset about something but didn’t want to get into it on the phone. She’s going to be even more upset when she finds out her kid is dead. Ready for a closer look?”
Kala pushed back a strand of hair from her eyes and nodded. “After you,” she said.
They’d have a few minutes with the boy before he was carted up the hill into the waiting ambulance. She tried to hang on to the inner calm she’d found in the car as she followed her partner across the slippery rocks.
CHAPTER THREE
Rouleau met them in the hallway of the station at one o’clock. “Hilary Eton identified her son. She says that she knows who killed him.”
They were quiet for a moment. Kala knew that convicting someone was never as simple as this. Knowing and proving were different animals entirely. She looked at Gundersund when he said, deadpan, “Well, that makes our job way easier.” He gave her a crooked smile before asking Rouleau, “Is she alone?”
“Yes, her husband left this morning for business in Calgary. She’s reached him at the Calgary airport and he’s on his way back.”
“Where’s Mrs. Eton now?” Kala asked. She looked from Gundersund to Rouleau and thought he looked tired. She’d been worried about him since his ex-wife, Frances, died in the summer. He’d stopped gathering the team unless he had to and never went with them for a drink after work as he had before Frances’s death.
“I brought her into my office and am giving her a bit of space to make some phone calls. She should be about done.”
“Then I guess we’ll find out who it is that she suspects.”
She and Gundersund followed Rouleau into the main office. Woodhouse was on the phone and Bennett was pouring a cup of coffee by the window. Kala smiled at Bennett on her way by. She’d been hoping for some time to sit with him and catch up, but there’d be no break while this case got underway. She’d been surprised by how much she’d missed Bennett while he was in Ottawa recuperating at his parents’. One quick trip to Ottawa at the beginning of his convalescence had been more to reassure herself that he was going to recover than anything else, a way to ease some of the guilt she felt at getting him shot. She hadn’t been oblivious to his interest in her and knew he placed more importance in her visit than she’d intended, but he’d get over his crush, for that was how she saw it. She was thirty to his twenty-five and the age difference felt like a lot.
Mrs. Eton was framed in the window when they entered, arms folded across her stomach and looking out. Her hair from behind was golden-brown cut into a short bob. Wealth and style were evidenced by her well-cut wool coat and high leather boots. When she finally turned and acknowledged their presence, her grey-blue eyes swept over them without focusing. Watery black mascara had tracked down her cheeks, which were as pale as ivory. The lack of colour in her face was disconcerting, and Kala feared that she might pass out.
Rouleau must have had the same thought because he immediately crossed the room and guided her by the elbow to a chair directly behind her. “Can I get you some tea?” he asked, bending so that he was in her line of vision.
Her shoulders rose and her back straightened, and Kala blinked at the transformation on her face. Mask firmly in place, this woman would not be letting them see inside. Though still pale, her eyes were reso-
lute. “No, thank you.” She looked at Gundersund and Kala as they took seats on the couch. Her chin lifted. “Will this take long?”
To Kala, the woman’s upper-crust British accent spoke of a moneyed upbringing and private schools, much like the upper class characters in PBS crime dramas. Mrs. Eton could have been a faded version of the actress who played the lead detective in Prime Suspect. Kala wracked her brain to remember the actress’s name. She came up empty.
Rouleau took the seat next to Hilary Eton and she turned slightly to face him. “Just a few questions. We know how difficult this is for you but we want to find whoever killed your son as soon as we can.”
“Of course. I’m not sure where she’s living now, but you should be able to track her down without difficulty. She’ll be answering to somebody, I imagine.”
Rouleau’s face remained sympathetic, no sign of impatience to be found. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Eton, but I don’t know what woman you’re speaking about. Perhaps you could tell us her name and why you suspect her.”
Kala watched Mrs. Eton carefully to see if the shock of her son’s death had affected her mind. She was aware of Rouleau and Gundersund silently waiting with her to see where this would lead. Shock and grief could make even the most rational person lose their grasp on reality for a time. Mrs. Eton’s back arched higher into the chair. “You don’t remember my son’s case? It was a few years back, but still …”
Kala could see the gears turning in Rouleau’s head. He glanced over at Gundersund, who looked perplexed before comprehension dawned in his eyes. “Your son was one of the schoolboys assaulted by the teacher, what was it, five years ago?”
“Four. Four years ago. Sexually assaulted. We were notified that Jane Thompson was out on parole five weeks ago, a day I’d been dreading since she was sentenced. I’ve been jumping at shadows since I heard, but then …” She shrugged her shoulders. “One has to carry on, doesn’t one? I didn’t want to live in fear and my hope was that she’d leave Kingston to go somewhere that nobody knew her. From what I’ve heard, her husband divorced her and wants nothing to do with her. Could anyone blame him? Besides, Devon is that much older. He was only twelve years old when it happened.” For the first time, her voice broke. “I thought … I thought he could handle what she’d done to him.”
Rouleau leaned closer to her and spoke quietly. “I’m sorry to have to ask you questions at this terrible time.”
Her voice got louder, her British accent more pronounced. “No, I want to help. I need to help. Devon deserves retribution. We, that is, Mitchell