The Taken

“I doubt he has anything.”

“Then I suggest we go find him.”

34

The divers arrived fifteen minutes later and they were six. Qui

Qui

Hazel smiled at him. “Good times!” she said.

“We better find him,” said Wingate.

Qui

The blades whined into high speed and the tail of the helicopter rose off the ground, followed by its giant, insect-like body. It took to the air with its head lowered, and Wingate grabbed the arm of his seat with white knuckles. He mouthed the words I hate you to Hazel, who nodded once to acknowledge reception. The team of Tate and Calberson sat quietly in their seats and Childress did her best to hide a terror that was clearly at least as profound as Wingate’s.

Qui

Qui

Through the rain, they saw a black shape lying on the ground, a greater darkness lying at the centre of the night. This was Inlet, so named for the finger-like bays that poked off the main body. Qui

“Where’s the yellow?”

“Off your window. About eleven o’clock.”

“I want a spot on it.”

Wingate began to rise slowly, but the pallor of his face convinced Calberson to take over. He armed the spot and turned it in the direction Hazel had been looking. It was at the shoreline where it appeared as if a tributary of the lake ran off into a swampy background. Qui

“What are you seeing, Detective Inspector?”

“Four shapes, two large, maybe the size of a cocker spaniel, and two small. All yellowy.”

“Too warm to be body parts,” Qui

“Yes,” she said, hesitating. “One of the bigger ones actually seems to be moving. It is. Moving away from the shoreline.”

Tate held his hand out for the glasses and looked through them, then passed them back. “Beavers,” he said. “That’s a dam down there.”

She looked through the binoculars again and the shapes resolved into animals, two adults and two kits. The secret life of the lake. Qui

In this ma

“What is it?” he asked.

Hazel leaned over and looked. She laughed. “Ativan. How fitting.”

He chewed it, grimacing.

By two in the morning, they’d covered MacKenzie and Rye, and they were heading for Pickamore Lake. If anything, the rain had intensified; the sound of it in the dark made it seem a huge presence, an omniscient force conveying them through its violent mind. Even Calberson looked green, and he spent half his working life under water. When they’d criss-crossed Lake MacKenzie, Hazel had already begun to go blind to the thermal translation of the world beneath them, and she passed the glasses to Wingate, now becalmed by Childress’s white pill. He pressed his face to the eyepiece and said wow quietly under his breath. Rye came up a blank under his inspection, and they doubled back to the southwest to get to Pickamore, the largest of the four lakes in the radius. Qui

“You’re a horrible lady.”

She gri

“Is this how she felt? Brenda Cameron?”

“She had at least three times the dosage you took. And her belly was full of alcohol, too. So, no. But can you imagine?”

“I couldn’t kill myself in this state. I’d screw it up.”

“You could do anything if you were desperate enough.”

He wiped the back of his neck. “We’re never going to find this guy. Alive.”

“We’ll see.” She signalled to Childress. The shared horror of the evening had softened her somewhat. “Call your people again.”

“It’s three in the morning.”

“See if anyone’s there. Leave a message or page someone. I want your people on line in case we find Eldwin. If he’s alive, he’s going to be in rough-enough shape – I don’t want to have to presume he’s also a murderer. I’d like to know.”

“Okay, okay,” said Childress, and she started dialling.

Qui