What's Past Is Prologue, page 17
“Anyway, it’s time for you and your family, Gracie, the volunteers and me to fan out, thank people for coming and encourage them to visit Slate Fine Art Gallery soon and often.”
* * *
In fifteen minutes there were just a few of us left. Angus and Leah had said their goodbyes to Sawyer and Libby early. Angus had a breakfast meeting with a new client, and the clinic where Leah practised opened at seven a.m. Zack and I went to the gallery door with the four of them when they said their warm but casual goodbyes.
Both Angus and Leah had enjoyed their time with Libby and were looking forward to seeing her whenever their paths crossed again. Sawyer would be in Regina sporadically until the trial, so the best man was available for whatever tasks came his way and there were already plans for a pre-wedding planning session at Bushwakker.
Rylee and Cambria, reluctant to let the evening end, were lingering by Taylor’s painting of herself at age four, while Gina and her volunteers cleared away the plates and glasses, so Slate Fine Art Gallery would be bright and shiny when it opened the next day.
Libby and Sawyer had extended a last-minute invitation to us all to join them for a burger at Mercury. Taylor and Gracie were enthusiastic, but Zack and I were ready to pack it in, so we said our farewells to Sawyer and Libby.
“I know it’s time to say goodbye,” Libby said, “but it’s hard. I arrived on your doorstep less than a week ago, but I already feel as if we’re part of each other’s lives. I’m not ready to let go of that feeling.”
“You don’t have to,” I said. “We’re only three hours away.”
“The Fairbairn trial doesn’t start till May 9th,” Libby said. “I’ve been thinking I might come a week early to get settled in, and if you’re amenable, spend some time with you.”
“We’re amenable,” I said. “Zack’s birthday’s May 1st. It’s always all hands on deck, so we’ll put you to work. That’s a beautiful time of year at Lawyers Bay, so we could spend the whole week there.”
“We have a guest cottage that you and Sawyer are more than welcome to use,” Zack said.
“It’s decided then, and Libby, bring a bathing suit. The lake’s never warm enough for a swim that early, but the kids like to get in and splash. The grown-ups like that too.”
Libby’s smile was transforming. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had something besides work to look forward to. Thank you.”
Zack and I both gave Libby and Sawyer a final hug.
Taylor said, “This evening was perfect in every way. I’m so glad we were all together.”
Zack and I watched through the gallery window until they were out of sight, and then said goodnight to Gina and the volunteers, and got into the Volvo and started home.
We’d just pulled into our driveway, when my cell phone rang. When I saw that it was Taylor, I put her on speakerphone. She was crying and incoherent; Zack and I turned to one another, our faces frozen in horror. Zack took my hand.
“Taylor, your mum and I can’t understand you. Take a deep breath and tell us what’s wrong.”
“Libby and Sawyer have been shot!”
I began to shake. “Are they hurt badly?”
“I don’t know.” Taylor was sobbing. “There’s just so much blood.”
“Where are you?” I said.
“On the sidewalk about a block away from Mercury.”
“We’ll be right there,” I said.
Zack was already backing out of the driveway. “Joanne, call 911. Just say there’s been a shooting on the sidewalk a block from Mercury on the north side of 13th.” His face was grim. “And Jo, tell them to send two ambulances!”
Chapter Twelve
For the first few minutes after we turned off Albert onto 13th, there was nothing to see. The snow that had been drifting in lacy beauty over our city earlier in the evening had grown heavy, and the winds had picked up. Traffic was light. Zack slowed as we approached Slate Fine Art Gallery. I was leaning forward, squinting through the space on the windshield cleared of snow by the wipers and seeing nothing. And then I saw Taylor and Gracie. They were both kneeling on the sidewalk, bent over dark shapes that I knew must be Libby and Sawyer.
“There they are!” I said. When we reached them, I jumped out of the car before Zack had turned off the engine.
I ran to Taylor, squatted and put my arms around her. Our daughter was as unresponsive as a block of wood. She was holding Libby’s hand, murmuring, “Don’t be afraid.” Gracie was kneeling over Sawyer. His body, like Libby’s, was face down in the snow. A street light shone down on them. I was mesmerized by the way Libby’s blood and Sawyer’s darkened the snow as it fell on their bodies.
Gracie was still attempting to staunch the flow of blood from Sawyer’s back.
Zack wheeled up beside me. He bent to touch Taylor’s shoulder. “Your mum and I are here,” he said. “And help is on the way.”
When Taylor didn’t respond, I said, “She’s in shock. Take her to our car. She’ll go with you. She needs to be warm, and the familiar surroundings will comfort her.”
Taylor wrenched herself away from me and from Zack. When she pivoted to face us, her dark eyes were blazing. She pointed towards Gracie, Libby and Sawyer. “They’re not warm,” she said, and there was an edge of hysteria in her voice. “I can’t leave them, not when they’re like this.”
Our daughter’s words shattered the silence of the January night, but within seconds, there were other sounds: a cacophony of sirens from squad cars, ambulances and a firetruck.
Suddenly, there were uniformed people everywhere. The paramedics spent very little time with Libby. Zack and I watched numbly as, after a quick examination, they covered her body and loaded it into one of the ambulances. Taylor stood with Gracie as she talked to the paramedics. They were both covered in blood. Gracie was adamant about something, and as the paramedics listened, they were careful and deliberate in their treatment of Sawyer as they loaded him into the ambulance and then took their places beside him.
After the ambulances left, two officers approached Taylor and Gracie. I understood that protocol had to be followed, but the young women had been through hell, and I was relieved when Debbie Haczkewicz arrived. She was still in the outfit she’d worn at the opening and she approached Zack and me with a friend’s solicitude.
“I don’t know how often I’ve heard someone refuse to believe that a person can be dead because they’d just seen them or talked to them,” she said, and she sounded as wounded as I felt. Debbie always spoke with care, but at that moment, her words just tumbled out. “Minutes ago, Libby Hogarth was alive — so, so alive, and Sawyer . . . at least he’s still alive. Pray for him. I’m praying for him. This is all just so wrong.”
“It is,” I agreed. I looked over at Taylor and Gracie standing with the two police officers. The snow was heavy now, and I thought how cold and frightened the girls must be.
Zack was watching them too. “Deb, I understand that your officers have to question Taylor and Gracie,” he said. “Our house is ten minutes from here. Could your officers question them at our place? They can take them over in a squad car if that’s the protocol.”
Debbie met Zack’s gaze. “We’ll do what we can to not inflict more pain on Taylor and Gracie,” she said. “To follow protocol and save the upholstery in your car, the officers will drive Taylor and Gracie to your place. While the young women are cleaning themselves up, Inspector Hawkins and Constable Agecoutay can bag their clothes and remove them from the house. When Gracie and Taylor are ready, our officers will interview them separately. You and Joanne can be present for the interviews.”
“Can we go over and tell the girls what’s happening?”
“Absolutely. It will be easier for them, if they know what to expect.”
* * *
In spite of our grim mood, Pantera and Esme greeted us with their usual exuberance; the house still smelled faintly of the pickerel we’d had for dinner, and the biography of Philip Roth that had been in my Christmas stocking was on the hall table where I’d left it when the florist came to deliver the arrangement Isobel Wainberg sent to celebrate Taylor’s opening.
“Everything looks the same,” I said, and my voice was dead.
Zack shot me a quick look of concern. “Let’s keep our focus on getting through the next two hours.”
“Two hours can be a long time,” I said. “But I’ll start with something I can do. I’m going to take Pantera and Esme down to our bedroom and shut them in. Gracie’s and Taylor’s coats are soaked with blood, and I’m not sure how the dogs will react to the smell.”
Zack’s expression was pensive. “Rosamond Burke was right on the money about you, Jo. You do what needs to be done.”
“So do you,” I said. “We’ll get through this.”
The words were brave, but when I walked into the kitchen to get the dogs’ treats and saw the white tulips in the Delft pitcher, my breath caught. When Zack, Taylor and I last sat at that table, we were happy. I did not need a reminder that joy is transient, but I did need to get through the next two hours. I went to the fridge, took out a baggie of desiccated beef liver, then stopped to look again at Taylor’s perfect arrangement in the Delft pitcher. “You’re just flowers,” I said. “You’re not emblematic of anything.”
Zack wheeled into the room. “Were you talking to me?”
“No. I was talking to the tulips.”
“Fair enough,” he said. “I came to tell you the squad car just pulled up so we better get Pantera and Esme out of the way.”
I waved the baggie of desiccated beef liver in the air. “I’m on it.”
* * *
Zack and I were side by side when Taylor, Gracie and the police officers who were accompanying them arrived at our front door. We’d turned the porch lights on, and it was difficult not to flinch at Taylor’s and Gracie’s appearance. The fronts of their coats were soaked through with blood and their hair and faces were blood-spattered.
The older of the two police officers, an attractive dark-haired woman who appeared to be about my age, took charge of the situation. “I’m Inspector Gaynelle Hawkins, and this is my colleague Constable Sandra Agecoutay. These are unusual circumstances, and your daughter, Gracie, Sandy and I have come up with what we believe is a workable plan. Sandy and I are here to talk to them about tonight’s events. We’ve agreed that tonight, Gracie, Taylor, Sandy and I will call each other by our given names. The first order of business is to get Taylor and Gracie out of the clothes they’re wearing and into a shower. Taylor tells us you have a mudroom that we can enter directly from the deck. The clothing is evidence so Sandy and I will have to bag everything while the young women shower.”
“Gracie and Taylor have been through a nightmare tonight,” Constable Agecoutay added. “We’ll be in the mudroom, in case they need help.”
“Thank you,” I said.
“No thanks necessary,” Inspector Hawkins said. “Sandy and I are parents too. Now, if one of you could unlock the mudroom door and leave out some clean clothing, we’ll go around to the back, so the young women can shower. Mr. Shreve, Gracie has asked that you stay with her for the interview. She made some quick medical decisions, and she’d like you to monitor what she tells us. Ms. Shreve, Taylor would like you to stay with her. Any questions?”
“None, and thank you for your kindness.” Zack wheeled closer to the door and turned his chair so he was facing Taylor and Gracie. “Joanne and I love you both. So do many, many others. Don’t lose sight of that.”
After we shut the door, Zack turned to me. “How will they ever get through this, Jo?”
“They have all of us, and they have each other,” I said. “You saw the way Gracie and Taylor were looking at each other when I took that photo before we left for the opening.”
“I did,” Zack said, “And you’re right. They won’t let go of what they have.” Zack had just turned on the fireplace in the family room when the doorbell rang.
My nerves twanged. “I’m not ready for whoever’s on the other side of that door,” I said.
“Relax, Jo. It’s Henry Chan. I asked him to come over and see how Taylor and Gracie are doing. I figured he could prescribe something short term if he thinks the need is there.”
“Good call,” I said. “But Zack, it’s going to be at least fifteen minutes before Gracie and Taylor are ready. Can you suggest to Henry that we’d like to talk about anything other than what happened tonight?”
“Another good call,” Zack said. “Now I’d better open that door before Henry freezes.”
“Right, I’ll get clothes for the girls and unlock the mudroom,” I said. “Zack, I’m really glad you called Henry.”
Among Henry Chan’s many skills as a family doctor was his ability to truly listen to what his patients said. When he came into the family room, he gave me a quick hug. “The topic tonight is my cottage on Anglin Lake,” he said. “Now that the divorce is final, do I sell the cottage or keep it? The floor is now open for discussion.”
The manoeuvre was nimble, and the topic was one my husband and I could embrace. The first summer after three of Zack’s partners died, Lawyers Bay carried too many memories for Zack. We made it through Falconer Shreve’s traditional Canada Day party, but by the end of the day, Zack had had enough, and we left the lake on July 2nd.
Along with Nick Kovacs, Vince Treadgold and Zack, Henry was a member of a poker group that had met almost every Wednesday for twenty-five years. After we cut short our premature return to Lawyers Bay, Henry suggested that my husband, my daughter and I spend a month at the summer place he and his then wife owned on Anglin. The cottage, like the homes owned by the other members of the poker club, was accessible, so on July 3rd, the Shreve family loaded the dogs into the station wagon and headed for the cottage on Anglin Lake.
The distance between our house and the Chan cottage was 433 kilometres, driving time four hours and forty-two minutes, but the experience that was waiting for us was worth the trip. The Chans’ summer cottage was as serene as the lake it overlooked. Every day, Zack, Taylor and I swam, read or wandered along the shoreline; every night, we watched the sun set and listened to the achingly evocative cry of the loons. Our time at Anglin had been restorative, and we returned ready to spend August at Lawyers Bay.
Remembering that summer as we talked with Henry was soothing. After discussing the pros and cons of keeping the cottage, Zack and I urged Henry to do what we knew he wanted to do all along: pitch the “For Sale” sign and stick with the sunsets and the loons.
When Taylor, Gracie and the police officers appeared in the door of the family room and said they were ready for the interviews, I felt a pang. I wasn’t ready for the pain of reality.
Henry took Gracie and Taylor aside and talked to them for a few minutes. When he came over to Zack and me to say goodbye, he told us that, on his recommendation, both young women had taken an Ativan tablet. “They’re trying,” Henry said. “But they’re both on the edge. Now they’ll have to relive the nightmare for the police. This medication will help short term. I’ll call in a prescription for something milder at your pharmacy. Right now, I’m going to text Vince and ask him to pass along any information he gets about how Sawyer MacLeish is doing.”
After Henry left, Gracie, Zack and Constable Agecoutay went into the dining room, and Taylor and I stayed in the family room with Inspector Hawkins. Henry and I had been sitting in two of the three armchairs arranged in a conversational grouping around a small table. As he often did, Zack had pulled one of the chairs back and wheeled into its place so we could talk easily. When Taylor came into the room, she chose the chair that had been pulled aside. It faced the other two chairs but it was distant. Our daughter was distant too.
She and Gracie had both changed into pajamas, robes and slippers. The robe Taylor was wearing had been a favourite in her early teens. It was flannel, in a shade called mystical mint, and it featured magical creatures from the wizarding world of Harry Potter. Our daughter’s dark hair had been combed wet, and it hung straight to her shoulders. She sat stiffly in her chair, with her hands clasped on her lap like a schoolgirl’s. Taylor had always been able to say what was on her mind, but that night she was silent, and for a long while, the steady tick-tock of our grandmother clock was the only sound in the room. Gaynelle Hawkins was patient, but finally she said, “Anytime you’re ready, Taylor.”
Our daughter was hesitant at first, but as her account of what happened from the time she left the gallery with Libby, Sawyer and Gracie to go for burgers grew in intensity, her delivery became rushed as if she wanted to outrun her memories.
“We’d only gone a block when I realized I’d left my crossbody bag in the back room of the gallery. The strap had broken. Gina suggested that I leave the bag in a drawer in her desk for safekeeping.
“The plan was for us to eat and then Gracie and I would drive Libby and Sawyer to their hotel. I must have been mulling that over when I remembered that my car keys and wallet were in my bag and that my bag was still in the back room of the gallery. I wasn’t sure when Gina closed up for the night, so I said I was going back to get my bag. Gracie said she’d go with me, and we’d meet Sawyer and Libby at Mercury. When we got back to Slate, Gracie and I stayed in the alcove inside the front door so we wouldn’t track snow on the hardwood. It took Gina a few minutes to get my bag because she was on a phone call. When Gina brought my bag, Gracie and I thanked her again for everything and Gina let us out through the front door, so we didn’t have to walk in the alley.
“We started out. Gracie and I were surprised that we couldn’t see Sawyer and Libby. I said I thought we must have been in the gallery longer than we’d realized, and then we just kept on walking until we saw them on the sidewalk. There was so much blood. I knelt down beside Sawyer. Gracie said, ‘Don’t move him, just keep talking to him.’ And she went to Libby.”
