Echoes of the Past (16 page)

She unlocked the steel door. Still dazed and
disoriented, confused by the accusations, she walked over to the basin, slashed
water on her face. She was paler than usual. She pinched her cheeks for color,
added lip gloss, and took a deep breath. She had a fifteen-minute ride back to
her car, and Ron couldn’t know how upset she was. The headache she’d had
earlier reasserted itself, and her temples throbbed. She pulled a paper cup
from the dispenser, filled it and swallowed two analgesic tablets, praying
they’d work quickly.

She’d ask Ron about the accusations Tony had made.
She had to learn everything she could about the professor and this woman on the
beach before she confronted him again. Her next move suddenly became clear. Rather
than go to the resort and check-in as she’d planned, she’d go into Belleville
and see the bodies. They should be out of rigor by now since they’d been found
early Friday morning. She’d get blood and start the
tox
screens. She needed to listen to the spirits as soon as possible and figure out
what had happened. A woman entered the bathroom forcing her back to the moment.
She smiled and exited the restroom.

Michelle walked toward the exit where Ron was
waiting for her. It had stopped raining, but the wind was brisk. Ron opened her
door and ran around to get in on the driver’s side. Michelle got in, put on her
seat belt, and stared straight ahead still lost in thought about what she’d do
next.

Chapter Eight

Michelle barely noticed when the truck left the
parking lot.

“I’m sorry about that little mess in there
earlier. I hope it didn’t ruin lunch for you. Michelle? Are you sure you’re
okay?”

Ron’s words reached her. She blinked, looked at him,
and pasted what she hoped was a confident smile on her face even though every
fiber of her being felt anything but assured.

“Sorry, I’m just tired. I guess I was lost in
thought. I’ve never seen him angry like that.”

Ron frowned and looked at her strangely. “You’ve
seen him before?”

There was accusation in Ron’s voice, which
surprised her. “Do you know Dr. Steele? He didn’t seem to know you other than
think you were the woman he’s been imagining running around the resort.”

There was something in his tone Michelle didn’t like.

“Since I think he’s involved, is the fact you know
him going to be a problem? Should you send for someone else? Maybe the local
M.E. can take care of things after all.”

“What are you asking?” Her voice was cold and
angry. “Do I know him?
Of course not.
I’ve never met
Doctor Steele, but I saw his picture yesterday, just as I saw yours. He looked
quite different in it, pleasant in fact, not at all like the man I met today.
I’m sorry if I seem distant. Lunch was wonderful, but I’ve had a couple of busy
days. I feel as if I’ve been on the job twenty-four seven lately. I realize you
think he may be to blame for their deaths, but from what I’ve read, he’s
well-respected in his field.”

Ron might be contrite, but he wasn’t convinced,
and it showed in his stiff posture and scowl. He stared at the road.

“I’m
sorry,
I didn’t mean
to accuse you of anything. The man just rubs me the wrong way. There’s been
nothing but trouble since he arrived. He’s trying to prove something that isn’t
true, and those kids knew it. I think they were trying to discredit him, and he
had to shut them up.
Sending them out on the lake that night
was a death sentence.
Your results will prove me right.”

His assertion unnerved her.
Confidence or cockiness?
How can he be so certain?

“I spoke to the boy a couple of times. He used to
be a good ball player until he blew out his knee. He thought the professor was
an arrogant asshole. They argued repeatedly. The man joined the faculty at the
University of Toronto five years ago and made tenure surprisingly fast—I guess
it’s who you know. He’s got deep pockets or else he’s got his hands in someone
else’s. He’s a snake oil salesman who knows how to sell his cock and bull
theories to others who’ll throw their money away at the drop of a hat. He’s got
Moorcroft in his pocket, and that means he’s probably looking at government
sponsorship for his cockamamie ideas. Lately, he’s been mouthing off about
pollution in the lake. You know how eager everyone is to jump on the
environmental bandwagon these days. Personally, I think he’s nuts. You heard
him. Did that sound like a sane man to you?”

She frowned. Audra said she needed to save the
sacred waters. Since the Lake of the Mountain was the sacred lake, could the
problem be something as simple as water pollution? How the hell was she
supposed to do that? Tony was the hydrologist. He’d know all about water and
pollution. Was Tony the one she needed? But as Mayor, Ron had all kinds of
resources, but didn’t seem convinced there was a problem. She realized Ron waited
for an answer.

“I don’t know. He was certainly upset, but
unhinged? I spend some time at the university. I do guest lectures every once
in a while. There certainly are people there with fantastic theories, but there
are also others who work incredibly hard to find the right answers to solve all
kinds of mysteries. Where would we be without researchers? Penicillin, insulin,
vaccines—they were all theories once.”

Ron didn’t seem pleased with her answer. He
concentrated on the road, and she watched the muscle in his cheek jump.

“You’re right.” She got the feeling he begrudged the
admission.

“According to the professor’s bio—they sent me one
when his research proposal was approved, just a courtesy—he’s done well for the
university. Much as I’d like to send him packing, especially now, my hands are
tied. If he’s found responsible, that’ll be another matter.”

“You seem to know a lot about him.”

“I make a point of learning all there is about the
people on my island.”

His tone was proprietorial and unsettled her.
What’s wrong with me? I liked him well
enough an hour ago, now I’m questioning everything
.
I’ve never been fickle before, why now?

Ron reached for her hand. “I’m looking forward to
learning more about you. If you decide the deaths weren’t accidental, how will
you handle that? What will you look for?”

Something in his tone warned
her
this
wasn’t an idle question. His gaze so friendly and welcoming only a
short while ago avoided hers. It was true he was driving, but he’d looked at
her plenty of times on the ride over. She chewed her lower lip as she organized
her thoughts. Her
spidey
senses
were tingling as Tasha would
say. She kept her answer as general as possible.

“There’ll be physical signs indicating death
occurred after they went into the water—lake water in their lungs and stomach
for example. I’ll check the diatoms in the water, see if the blood has been
diluted, and look for damage in the middle ear. There are other things I’ll consider,
but they’re technical and hardly the stuff for pleasant conversations. Once I
see any of those things, I’ll look for the signs to tell me at what stage they
died. I’ll check the bodies for other trauma, and determine the exact cause of
death. I’m very good at my job, Ron.” She swallowed. “If for some reason I
discover they didn’t drown, which, considering how they were found is highly
unlikely, I’ll immediately rule it a homicide and start a full investigation.
Then, the autopsies will be more important than ever.”

“How long will that take? The press is always
hounding me for answers.”

“I’ll have preliminary results within a day or two.”
Maybe sooner, but he doesn’t have to know
that.

Michelle wanted to ask Ron about the woman Tony
claimed he’d seen, the one who looked like her, but since she’d answered his
question, he’d been quiet, almost preoccupied. They pulled up in front of city
hall, and Michelle opened the door. She crossed the street to her Camaro and
Ron followed her.

“Nice car.” He walked around the vehicle openly
admiring its sleek lines.

“She’s my baby. My boss let me take her this time,
but I usually use a company car on the job. She’d been sitting in the garage
for months and needed a run.”

“Don’t forget, I’ll pick you up around ten.”
Whatever animosity she’d sensed earlier had vanished. “Maybe you can take me
for a spin afterward when we go for lunch.”

She
smiled,
pleased
things seemed to be back to normal. “Play your cards right, and I might even
let you drive.”

Where the
hell did that come from? I’ve never let anyone drive my car—not even Tasha!

Michelle unlocked the car, got inside, and waved
at Ron as he drove off back the way they’d come. It had started to drizzle
again. Using the car’s integrated phone system, she checked for messages and texted
Tasha she’d arrived safely. She set the coordinates for Belleville General into
the Camaro’s GPS system and glanced at her watch. It was three-thirty—plenty of
time to take a look at the bodies and get back to the resort in time to
check-in. If she got carried away as she often did, she’d find a place to crash
in the city, get some rest, and go out to the resort early in the morning. It
wouldn’t be the first time she’d use two hotel rooms on one assignment. As long
as she was at the resort by ten tomorrow to meet Ron, everything would be fine.
For some reason, she was reluctant to have him know she was going there now.

Damn! Gut
feeling or something more? Keeping secrets is a lousy way to start a
relationship, but something isn’t right. He’s trying too hard to convince me
Tony’s guilty as if planting the suggestion in my mind will make it true.

Her brain and her heart seemed to be having a
difference of opinion about the men she’d met today. How could she be
physically and emotionally attracted to them both when she’d never been
attracted to any man that way before? Michelle started the car and followed the
GPS directions back to the mainland. In minutes, she’d left
Picton
behind. She drove along the deserted highway listening to Shania Twain music
hoping the tunes would empower her, but she sensed a lot of what was to come
was out of her hands. Even with the sounds of
Feel like a Woman
blaring from the car’s speakers, she felt like a
puppet dancing to the will of the gods. Had going to see the bodies now been
her decision or were The Three Sisters trying to rush things along?

This part of the island was more agricultural than
the other half had been. Highway 62 crossed dairy and sheep farms and corn and
soybean fields, rather than vineyards. By now, most of the grains had been
harvested, but here and there, a combine sat abandoned waiting for the weather
to change so the last of the crops could be collected. She crossed a minor
river and drove past a small airport. The access road was paved, so she assumed
the landing strip must see regular use.

The rain eased and the visibility improved as she
moved north. She came to the bridge over the Bay of
Quinte
,
crossed and then turned onto
Dundas
Street east
toward the hospital. The thirty-minute drive had been uneventful. Michelle
pulled into the doctors’ parking lot, and stopped the car. She displayed her
provincial coroner’s parking permit on her dash. With that pass, she could park
anywhere in the province without paying. The last thing she needed was to be
digging for change for a meter when she was on the clock.

After noting her arrival time in a small blue
notebook she used for that purpose, she opened the trunk, removed her autopsy
bag, and strode quickly toward the main entrance. There was probably an
employee door she could use, but they generally required swipe cards. She’d
need to get one as soon as she could. As she approached the information
counter, she took her identification out of her pocket, and smiled at the woman
behind the desk. The tag on the woman’s shirt said,
Hi I’m Carol. I volunteer
.

“Good afternoon, Carol.” Michelle smiled
pleasantly. Volunteers were the unsung heroes of most hospitals. “I’m Dr.
Thomas from the Provincial Coroner’s Office. Can you direct me to the morgue?”

The woman stared at her as if she’d suddenly grown
another head.

“You want to go to the morgue?” She looked so
shocked Michelle laughed.

“I do. That’s where you keep the bodies, isn’t it?
I’m here to see two of them. Someone is expecting me.”

“I’m sorry, Dr. Thomas.” The woman apologized. Her
cheeks reddened. “I’m new here. No one’s ever asked me for the morgue before.
I’m not sure I know where it is. It wasn’t on the tour. Let me call the
administrator on call.”

Michelle smiled and nodded. She was pretty sure
the morgue would be off-limits on most hospital tours. It wasn’t the first time
this had happened to her and wouldn’t be the last. She watched Carol make a
call, speak briefly, and hang up

The
woman replaced the phone in its cradle and smiled at her. “I’m sorry about
that, Dr. Thomas. Dr.
Runions
will be here shortly.
He’s the administrator on call. He’ll know what to do. You can wait over there
if you like.”

The woman indicated chairs under the windows.
Michelle wandered over and sat down on a hard green leatherette and steel
chair. She checked her cell phone for the images the police were supposed to
have sent, but nothing had come through. Swallowing her frustration, she
emailed Sheila and asked her to check on them. She wanted to—no needed to—
see
those pictures as soon as possible. The one she had
wasn’t nearly enough to work with.

Michelle opened a couple of sarcastic poster
emails from Tasha. Her friend had a warped sense of humor. After closing the
phone and putting it in her purse, she reached for one of the magazines on the
table—a ten-year-old copy of
Readers’
Digest
—and shook her head. Why were the waiting room magazines always so
out of date? She’d barely had time to thumb through it when a middle-aged man
wearing green hospital scrubs came up to
her
with his
hand extended. She stood and reached for it. He had a firm grip.