Forty Words for Sorrow Read Online Free Page A

to check it out. Someone sees a young hitchhiker, you have to check it out. Everyone in town thinks they’ve seen Katie Pine somewhere: she’s at the beach, she’s at the hospital under another name, she was in a canoe in Algonquin Park. Every one of those leads had to be followed up.”
    “So you told me at the time.”
    “None of it was unjustified. That’s got to be obvious by now.”
    “It was not obvious then. No one saw Katie Pine with a stranger. No one saw her get into a car. One minute she’s at the fair, the next minute she was gone.”
    “I know. The ground opened.”
    “The ground opened and swallowed her up, and you chose to believe—without evidence—that she was murdered. Time has proved you right; it could just as easily have proved you wrong. The one incontestable fact was that she was g-o-n-e gone. A genuine mystery.”
    Well, yes, Cardinal thought, Katie Pine’s disappearance had been a mystery. Sorry—I had a fantasy that policemen were occasionally called upon to solve mysteries, even in Algonquin Bay. Of course, the girl was Native, and we all know how irresponsible those people can be.
    “Let’s face it,” Dyson said, inserting his letter opener precisely into a small scabbard and laying it neatly beside a ruler. “The girl was Indian, too. I like Indians, I really do. There’s a calmness about them that’s practically supernatural. They tend to be good-natured and they’re extraordinarily fond of children, and I’d be the first to say Jerry Commanda was a first-rate officer. But there’s no point pretending they’re just like you and me.”
    “God, no,” said Cardinal, and meant it. “Different people entirely.”
    “Relations scattered to hell and gone. That girl could have been anywhere from Mattawa to Sault Ste. Marie. There was no reason to be searching boarded-up mine shafts in the middle of the bloody lake.”
    There had been every reason, but Cardinal didn’t phrase it like that. He didn’t have to; the point was nestled inside a more important one. “The thing about the Windigo mine shaft is that we did search it. We searched it the week Katie Pine disappeared. Four days after, to be exact.”
    “You’re telling me she may have been kept stashed away somewhere before she was killed. Held prisoner somewhere.”
    “Exactly.” Cardinal suppressed the urge to say more. Dyson was warming up, and it was in Cardinal’s interest to let him. The letter opener emerged once again from its scabbard; an errant paper clip was speared, hoisted and transferred to a brass holder.
    “Then again,” Dyson continued, “she could have been killed right away. The killer could have kept the body somewhere else before moving it to a safer place.”
    “It’s possible. Forensic may be able to help us with place—we’re shipping the remains to Toronto as soon as the mother’s been informed—but this is shaping up to be a long investigation. I’m going to need McLeod.”
    “Can’t have him. He’s in court with Corriveau. You can have Delorme.”
    “I need McLeod. Delorme has no experience.”
    “You’re just prejudiced because she’s a woman, because she’s French, and because, unlike you, she’s spent most of her life in Algonquin Bay. You may have put in ten years in Toronto, but you’re not going to tell me her six years as special investigator amounts to no experience.”
    “I’m not putting her down. She did a fine job on the mayor. She did a fine job on the school-board scam. Keep her on the white-collar stuff, the sensitive stuff. I mean, who’s going to look after Special?”
    “What do you care about Special? Let me worry about Special. Delorme is a fine investigator.”
    “She has no experience at homicide. She came close to ruining an important piece of evidence last night.”
    “I don’t believe it. What the hell are you talking about?”
    Cardinal told him about the Baggie. It sounded thin, even to him. But he wanted McLeod. McLeod knew how to