Planet Lara: Sanctuary

5. A Society Friend

CHAPTER FIVE

a society friend

Island residents continue to gather at the community centre in shifts in case they are needed for anything. The initial grid search overnight and into this morning has yielded no new clues. A helicopter buzzed the local skies for five hours in the darkness, using infrared and thermal imaging to look for Finan, with no luck. Seems Iona and her minions waited for the helicopter to cease for the night and then they slid ashore to dump Hale Watts on Cordelia Beach.

The decision is made for me to spend the day at my office, near the phones and the war room, in the event of incoming calls and to keep Eileen Rowleigh apprised of every development. I’ve not talked to her yet, but Rupert has and says she is a mess. I can only imagine. The police are at the Rowleighs’ North Vancouver home with Eileen and Finan’s younger sister Kira and Kira’s husband, setting up a smaller command centre at the house to be ready if the kidnappers attempt to contact Finan’s family directly.

Len Emmerich and his guys are manning the community centre and prepping teams to do a wider search via boat now that it’s daylight. The Special Crimes Team hasn’t yet arrived from Vancouver, so until they do, three officers are babysitting Hale Watts’s tarp-covered body on Cordelia Beach. An RCMP marine unit has commenced a search on the water between here and the mainland, in case Finan is in a drifting boat or … worse.

Wes and his colleagues have congregated in the conference room down the hall to strategize, talking in low voices. I don’t linger to listen—I don’t want to know what they’re saying.

Rupert, on the phone in Catrina’s shared office, reminded me that as long as no one says anything about finding Finan washed up on a beach, then he is still alive. He is still out there. Somewhere.

Harmony is at the desk we set up for her in my office, blazing through her math pages. Apparently, that’s the deal with her dad. She can stay at town hall as long as she gets through her homework. Under ordinary circumstances, I might be annoyed that my chatterbox friend is constantly hovering rather than attending classes with the other kids, but Harmony knows s**t is scary right now. She isn’t bugging me about tasks to earn money, she isn’t asking a million questions, and she’s not gossiping about her mother’s affair with Dr. Stillson.

Every few minutes, I feel her eyes on me from where she’s hunched over her textbook, her lips twisted in concentration, not because the high school-level algebra is hard but because it’s “boring and tedious and do I really need algebra to fix kids with cancer?” She’s not even whining about that today. Tiny Einstein is learning how to read a room, I’ll give her that.

It dawns on me—she needs a phone. For safety purposes. Plus I need to be able to find her wherever she is on the island, in case we get a lead on Finan and I have to go with the police or Wes or Len. Then she can take over care of Humboldt during his recovery while I’m off Thalia finding the love of my life.

I should discuss this with her parents first. I’d have more luck with her dad, Zackery—Gillian is resentful of the bond between her daughter and me. Or maybe I should just give Harmony the phone, tell her it’s part of her job duties, and if one of her parents takes issue with it, they can come talk to me. Ask for forgiveness, not permission.

The giant key chain jingles as I pick it up, catching Harmony’s attention. “Do you need me to get you something?” she asks, dropping her pencil, body poised and eager to do anything other than math.

“No. Finish your pages. I’ll be right back.”

Harmony sighs, pulls her right-side braid around, and slides it between her lips to gnaw on while she does quadratic equations. Thank all the gods it’s her doing those and not me.

Catrina’s office is unlocked, but the drawer in her filing cabinet where we keep spare Thalia Island phones is not. I find an older model iPhone and fire it up, glad to see the screen-lock code written on the tape on its box is correct. I’m too scattered to figure out SIM cards and network connections to get this sucker up and running.

Back in my office, I slide the phone onto Harmony’s desk. “Do you know how to find what this phone’s number is?” I ask. She grins and nods. “Text it to me.”

I grab my phone off the charger on my desk just as a text pings through.

“Is this for me?”

“It is your official work phone. It is not for playing games or looking up inappropriate stuff on the internet. It’s an official Thalia Island phone, so no funny business.”

“Can I download an anatomy app?”

“Let me see it first to make sure it’s the right kind of anatomy app.”

Harmony tilts her head. “Is there a wrong kind?”

“Never mind,” I say, adding her number to my contacts. “Here’s the deal—this phone is for you to reach me if you are ever in trouble, if you are out doing errands for me and you see something strange or weird or that might be a clue, if you’re ever babysitting Big Dog and you need help, if any strangers approach you again—anything like that. Got it?”

“Can I send you funny videos?”

I hike an eyebrow.

“Fine, work stuff only. And Humboldt stuff. And pictures if weird people try to talk to me or give me envelopes.”

“Yes.”

Her little thumbs fly over the screen. “Lutris is on here! Oh, can I pick my avatar? Then you can know where I am on the island!”

“I will add you to the system.”

“Cool!” She scrolls through the available avatars, gnawing on her bottom lip. “Is there a skateboard?” She scans the options—no skateboard. “Oh, can I be the lightning bolt, then?”

“It’s frightening how perfect that is for you, Harmony.”

She grins.

“Knock, knock,” Catrina says, reaching around to tap on my open office door.

“Catrina, look! Lara gave me a business phone. I need your number so I can text you work stuff or if I need help.” She shoves the phone into Catrina’s palm and waits patiently while Catrina keys in her phone number.

“Don’t send me silly stuff, all right?” She returns the phone to Harmony. “Unless it’s something really silly and I just have to see it.” She winks at the kid.

“How is Humboldt? Is that why you’re here?” Harmony follows Catrina over to the small couch against the southern wall of my office and flops onto it. As Catrina slides in beside our braided powerhouse, fatigue is obvious in her posture and the dark circles under her eyes.

“Catrina, have you slept?” I ask.

“I’ll go home in a few minutes.” She nods toward my computer. “No news?”

I shake my head.

“We’ve applied a cast to Humboldt’s leg. We were able to get an X-ray and then Liam knocked him out and set the bones. A second X-ray showed good placement. He stitched up his side too. The knife wounds were significant but mostly superficial, we think. We weren’t able to do much in terms of exploration since we don’t have the equipment to put him under general anesthesia. Dr. Lori is going to send over more supplies with our next delivery, so he’ll have antibiotics and pain medication to get through the next two weeks or so. We’ll just need to keep him quiet and calm.”

“I can manage that. I will take care of him for you guys,” Harmony says. “Everyone is gonna be busy looking for Finan, so let me care for Big Dog.”

Catrina eases a hand onto Harmony’s shoulder. “That would be amazing, Dr. Peck.”

Harmony jumps off the couch. “I’ll go over there right now. See if Dr. Stillson needs me.”

“Wait …” I point at Harmony’s desk. She knows exactly what I’m saying without saying a word.

She exhales an exasperated sigh and plods back to her seat. “I hate algebra,” she mumbles.

“Finish that, and then go check on Humboldt,” Catrina says. “Lara will need to drive him home in about two hours, after his medication wears off. You can help then, yes?”

“I’ll text my dad. Be right back!” Harmony skips out of my office, clutching her new toy.

“I hope Zackery isn’t angry I gave her a phone,” I say.

Catrina flaps a hand at me. “With all the weirdness going on around here, the Pecks should be thanking you for watching over their wild child.”

“She has been very helpful. Takes my mind off the hundred terrible things Iona and her fuc—”

“Stop that thought right there. Finan will be fine. He is strong and brave, and he is not what they want. They’re just making a point. Ainsley—Iona—she and Finan were friends. She’s not going to hurt him.”

I wish I could believe her. She hasn’t seen the photo of the dismembered journalist.

My phone buzzes against my desktop, startling us both. It’s an unknown number, which probably means a reporter or the police or even Finan calling from a borrowed phone. I answer it.

“Hello?” I say too loudly. No one is there, just the sound of … water? “Hello? Who is this?”

“Are you alone right now?” A woman’s voice. A chill breaks over my skin, standing the hairs on end.

“Uh, no. Who is this?”

“The dead-end woods. Main road out of town to the southernmost tip of Thalia Island. Meet me there within the hour—ALONE, LARA. Do not tell anyone else. Do not tell Rupert or any of those RCMP brutes.”

The pronunciation on that last word is like a spur into my heart muscle. I know this voice. I know this accent.

“Smile and pretend I’m one of your society friends. Say something about how long it’s been since we’ve talked.”

I do. I fake a smile and wave a hand at a wide-eyed Catrina who is watching me like a hawk.

“Meet me at the dead end in an hour.”

Iona MacChruim hangs up.