Kaleidoscope (22 page)

We had moved to pink when a red Trans-Am roared down the street towards us. When the driver hit the brakes in front of us, I thought it must be a Good Samaritan, but I was wrong. The driver pulled so close to the curb I could almost touch his car. The man in the passenger seat leaned towards his open window. “Hey, cunt, what are you doing to that kid?” he said. His voice was low and menacing. He extended his arm out the window and I could see the tattoo of an eagle on his bicep. Flanking the bird were the linked letter R’s. “We’re on this street a lot,” he said. “I’d like to get you alone – show you what Red Rage does to people who fuck with our kids.”

Leland came over and focused his gaze on the men in the red Trans-Am. “The police are on their way,” he said. “Are you planning to stay around and help with their investigation?”

I turned back to the child, whose eyes were still closed, even more tightly now. “Pink bubblegum, pink ponies, pink slippers,” I said, trying to recapture her attention even though I could hear my own voice quavering.

“I’ll find you,” one of the men in the Trans-Am said, then the driver gunned the engine.

The ambulance appeared shortly afterwards. The
EMT
team was gentle and efficient. A woman knelt beside me and started murmuring assurances and then she gestured that I should move and let her take my place. I did. The crew made their preliminary check of the child’s body and took their readings, and the police arrived to take a sample of the substance on the child’s lips. The female worker stayed right with her as they lifted her onto a gurney and into the ambulance.

When the ambulance doors slammed shut, my intake of breath was sharp and Leland took my arm. “I’m going to call Zack,” he said.

“No. I’ll do it. I’m all right.” I took out the BlackBerry Zack always insisted I carry when I ran and hit speed-dial.

“Good timing,” he said. “I just pulled into my parking
spot – on my way to meet Cronus at the office and give him some charm pointers. What’s up?”

“Leland and I were running on Rose Street and a little girl was thrown out of an
SUV
. She’d been assaulted.” My voice broke. “Zack, there was semen coming out of her mouth. And when I was trying to calm her two men from Red Rage pulled over and one of them threatened me.”

“I’ll be right there.”

“No. I’m fine. But we still have to talk to the police.”

“What block of Rose Street are you on?”

I scanned the nearest building for an address. “600 block,” I said.

“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

He was there in five. Leland and I had just started talking to a young constable when Zack pulled up. I watched as he snapped his wheelchair into place and came towards us. He held out his arms to me.

“Don’t touch me,” I said. I was wet and dirty, and Zack’s suit was immaculate. My concern was only with keeping his suit clean, but emotion gave my words a larger and darker meaning, and from the alarm in Zack’s eyes I knew that he’d picked up on that.

“We’re not going that route, Ms. Shreve,” he said, and his voice was commanding. He pushed his chair closer. I wanted to bend towards him, but my limbs were heavy. Zack reached out and embraced my bare legs. I leaned forward and buried my face in his hair, hoping the familiar smell of my husband would connect me with the world again. It didn’t. “I’m afraid, Zack,” I whispered.

Zack pushed his chair back and gave me an assessing look. “You and Leland finish talking to the cops, then I’ll drive you both home.”

Leland’s statement was comprehensive. He’d been able to identify the make of the
SUV
and the fact that it carried
a Saskatchewan plate with the last two numbers 08. It was only a matter of time before the men who’d violated the child would be arrested.

I was a less satisfactory witness. I was able to identify the man who’d leaned out of the red Trans-Am as a member of Red Rage, but my description of his features was vague, and because I’d been focused on the child when the car pulled out, I didn’t have information about the licence. Remembering the scene made my stomach churn, and I was relieved when the police took our contact numbers and sent us on our way.

When we arrived at the condo, Zack pulled in front of the gate to the parking garage. He took my hand. “Promise you’ll text if you need me. I can be home in fifteen minutes.”

“I promise,” I said.

Leland moved closer to me. “And I’m going to stick around for a bit.”

“Thanks,” Zack said. “I’ll call when there’s a break.”

Leland and I walked into our building and buzzed for the elevator. We didn’t speak until we stepped off at our floor. “I need a shower,” Leland said. “Do you want to get together and have breakfast somewhere afterwards?”

“Come over to our place. I’m not ready to face the world yet.”

“Twenty minutes?”

“Twenty minutes.”

I turned the shower on high and hot. After ten minutes, I’d scrubbed away the sweat of my run and the dirt of Rose Street, but as I towelled off I was still seething. I uttered an expletive, dressed, and went into the kitchen. By the time Leland arrived the coffee was ready.

Like me, he appeared to be fine – freshly showered, dressed, ready to meet the day. But I wasn’t fine, and neither
was he. I poured us each a cup of coffee and we sat on facing stools at the butcher-block table.

“How are you doing?” he asked.

“Not great,” I said. “I seem to be in the middle of an existential meltdown.”

“That’s understandable,” he said. “The fear in that child’s eyes and the way she was clutching that ten-dollar bill will stay with us both for a long time.”

“As it should,” I said. I was sick with anger. “Who decides, Leland? Who decides which of two children gets a life of love and privilege and which ends up on the streets giving blowjobs for drug money?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “But I’ve been asking myself that same question. Margot and I have so many plans for the baby we’re expecting. More than anything, we want our child to have a good life.”

“No one seems to care if that young girl has a good life,” I said.

Leland shook his head. “At least you and Mieka are doing something. UpslideDown2 is a worthwhile project.”

“Is it?” I said. “Or is it just a sop to our consciences. What’s the point of opening a play centre in a neighbourhood where a child is forced to fellate men who use her, then throw her out on the curb like garbage? What’s the point of talking about parenting to people who send their child out on the street? Nobody gives a damn, Leland. I thought the man in the Trans-Am was a Good Samaritan. All he did was show me his Red Rage tattoo and threaten me. Maybe it’s time Mieka and Lisa and I faced the fact that North Central is beyond saving.”

Leland’s voice was level. “You don’t know that, Joanne. Neither do I, but we both know that walking away won’t help.”

The first fingers of a headache were pressing the back of my skull. “Leland, forgive me, but I’m not up for an inspirational speech.”

“And I’m in no position to give one,” he said. “There was nothing altruistic about my decision to redevelop the Warehouse District and North Central. I wanted to make money and please Margot. But lately it’s occurred to me that The Village might serve other purposes. When Zack proposed building that shared facility with North Central, I leapt at the idea. I needed to cut the legs out from under Delorme and his supporters, so I offered them a project that they could never in a million years bring about on their own.”

“No liberal guilt there, huh?”

Leland shook his head. “Not an iota. But maybe motivation doesn’t matter. No matter why that facility gets built, it will be good for North Central and it will be good for The Village. It’s a step towards showing that we’re all in this together.”

“So everybody wins,” I said. “Peyben achieves its intended outcome, but there are unforeseen benefits for the neighbourhood and the city.”

“You’re not convinced,” Leland said. “But there’s logic here. We all accept the fact that collateral damage is possible, why not collateral good? Speaking of which, Riel Delorme called me. You obviously got through to him. He and I have a meeting scheduled for ten-thirty. We’re supposed to discuss the Nation
TV
project, but I can postpone.”

“Don’t,” I said. “Riel is prickly. He’s taken the first step, and if you postpone, he’ll perceive it as a slight.”

“Land mines everywhere,” Leland said.

I walked Leland to the door. “I’ll call you if I find out how the little girl is doing.”

Leland’s sentry eyes seemed to bore into me. “You’re paying a high price for your association with me.”

“Maybe it’s a price I had to pay.”

Leland touched my hand. “Collateral good?”

I tried a smile. “That remains to be seen.”

When I heard the shrill of my cell and saw Mieka’s name on the caller ID, I was on the roof garden, checking to see if the bedding plants Ed and I put in had weathered the storm. They looked hardier than I felt, and I almost didn’t answer. Under normal circumstances, I would have gone straight to Mieka to talk about the tragedy of the child on Rose Street, but explaining why I was on Rose Street with Leland at five-thirty in the morning was impossible, and so I stared at the phone.

Then, anxious about the girls, I picked up. Mieka was keyed up but cordial. “How’s life at the lake?”

“Tranquil,” I said.

“Would you be willing to give up a couple of hours of tranquillity to come into town and stay with the girls? They’re off school because it’s a teacher’s professional development day, and Lisa and I have a meeting with someone who’s expressed an interest in making a sizable contribution to UpSlideDown2.”

“Anybody I know?”

“Vivian Heinrichs.”

“That’s promising,” I said. “Mrs. Heinrichs has deep pockets and a social conscience. What time do you want me there?”

“Is eleven too soon?”

“Eleven’s fine,” I said.

“Are you all right?” Mieka asked. “You don’t sound like yourself.”

“I was at a dinner party last night, and I drank too much wine.”

Mieka laughed. “I assume since I’m talking to you, you made it safely home.”

“I took a cab.”

“All the way to the lake? That must have cost a fortune,” Mieka said. “Well, we’ve all had at least one regrettable
morning after. A couple of hours outside with Maddy and Lena will bring you around.”

“I’m counting on that,” I said. “See you at eleven.”

Mieka and the girls were sitting at the kitchen table poring over some plans Riel had drawn up for a summer project. He’d agreed to build a kid-sized version of Milky Way, the girls’ favourite ice-cream stand that had been on Victoria Street, unchanged, since my kids were little. Sitting on the benches outside Milky Way eating ice cream and watching other people eating ice cream under a cloudless Saskatchewan sky was one of the joys of summer in Regina. And the girls were determined to bring that pleasure into their own backyard.

Mieka handed me the plans. They were surprisingly professional. “Looks like Riel knows what he’s doing,” I said.

“He took the carpentry certificate at
NIAST
,” Mieka said. “But I told him not to put too much effort into the project. I don’t imagine the fascination with the ice-cream stand will last past summer.”

“About as long as most summer romances,” I said.

Mieka laughed softly. “Luckily, my romance is now three seasons long.” She looked down at her shorts and T-shirt. “I’d better put on some grown-up clothes for my meeting with Vivian Heinrichs.”

“Go ahead.” I turned to my granddaughters. “Too early for lunch? I thought after we ate we’d see if the pelicans are still up by the bridge.”

“I can always eat,” Lena said flatly.

“So can I,” said Madeleine.

“In that case,” I said. “Let’s get a move on.”

After we’d washed our lunch dishes, the girls and I went off in search of pelicans. Our creek was filled with wildlife, but pelicans were rare visitors. The theory was that our rainy spring had swollen the creek enough to make it appealing,
and if the cormorants were to be trusted, the fishing on the weir near the bridge was good. Madeleine stayed beside me and Lena ran ahead.

Our walk was uneventful. Lena spotted a small tree that bore the unmistakable marks of a beaver’s attention. A boy on the other side of the creek skipped a stone across the water and startled a trio of brown ducks that had been peacefully squatted on the water’s surface. A redwing blackbird, his scarlet and yellow shoulder badges bright as epaulettes, perched on a clump of bullrushes, belting out his tumbling song.

As always, we met dogs and dog owners whom we knew: a pair of Rhodesian ridgebacks owned by a neighbour at our old house, a Bichon named Daisy with whom the girls were taken, a rescue dog named Luke who had a maverick charm that won my heart. We greeted them all – dog and owner alike. This was our neighbourhood. People knew us here, and we knew them.

The willows on the creekbank near the weir grew out of the water in heavy clusters. For years I had witnessed the transformation from budding branch to first leaf to the full green leafing out of June, but the process never ceased to thrill me. As I watched my granddaughters run towards the weir where the pelicans were fishing, I felt a flash of joy. Then, remembering my morning, the dull anger that had begun when I saw that girl’s body flung to the street filled my throat.