The Fundy Vault Read online

Following her directions, I took the path to the field behind the barn. Sure enough, there was Jacob moving bales and rustic wooden benches to create a presentation area.

  “Hi, Jacob.” He nodded at me as he set a bench in position. “This looks nice,” I said. “I just met with Heather. I’m renting a studio here for a few days next week.”

  “That’s cool. So did you find your friend last night?”

  “No. Have you seen him today by any chance?”

  He shook his head. “Nope.”

  “You know how you warned me against crossing the bridge?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, I didn’t cross it.”

  “Good.”

  “But I’m thinking maybe McBride did—he’s just that kind of guy.”

  “He would have been stopped. They don’t fool around.”

  “You sound like you have first-hand experience.”

  “You hear things. Anyway, you’re better off steering clear of it.”

  “What’s up there on the other side of that bridge anyway?” I asked.

  “Guard dogs for one thing—German shepherds. And not the friendly kind.”

  “So, say they did find him crossing the bridge, what would they do? Have him arrested?”

  “I’m not sure. Really sorry, but I got a lot to do here.”

  “It’s just—I mean—it isn’t like my friend to disappear. He was supposed to pick someone up at the airport today, and he didn’t make it. So now I’m on my way back down to the end of the road again. I don’t know what else to do. I have to keep looking. Can you think of anything I should know, or is there someone up there I could contact by phone—anything at all….”

  “Look, I’d like to help you but I really can’t.” He walked away from me and picked up a large square bale. “Just be careful, okay?” he shouted over his shoulder.

  It wasn’t yet eleven o’clock and the sky was very bright. As I drove along I was getting a much better look at everything than I had on the previous evening. The road was not heavily populated or developed. There were a couple of small working farms, but many buildings were abandoned and in a state of decline. Once again I passed the handmade sign across from the quarry, and made a mental note to check it out on my way back.

  The steep incline at the road’s end did not look nearly as formidable or treacherous as it had the night before. There was a blue Ford pickup truck parked in the little open lot by the two fishing shacks, and I decided to drive down and see if there was anyone around that I could talk to.

  I passed the turn that went off to my right towards the oversized bridge. I continued slowly down the steep slope. Old Solid proved her worth and I parked facing the glorious Bay of Fundy. The tide had begun to go out and there were all manner of ancient-looking rock formations, large pieces of driftwood, and stones of all shapes and sizes on the rugged beach.

  I got out of the car. There was a light breeze and it was brisk, but the sun was climbing in the sky and it had the promise of warmth. I moved to the front of my car and stared out at the water. I looked to my right at the part of the Bay of Fundy known as Scots Bay. There the land curved around like a giant fishhook and then narrowed into Cape Split, with the sharp end of the hook projecting out into the bay. Across the water from where I stood was that dramatic rocky end point, and beyond Cape Split was the Minas Channel and the Parrsboro shore. The landscape had a mythic glow in the morning light.

  I was startled by a voice: “Where you from?”

  I turned. There was a ruddy-looking older fellow in a plaid jacket standing by the pickup. He was gaunt with piercing eyes and prominent cheekbones. He was scrutinizing me from under the bill of his peaked cap.

  “Halifax,” I said.

  “Just a gawker then?”

  I couldn’t help but laugh at this assessment. “It’s worth gawking at, don’t you think?”

  “There’s lots do, so it must be.”

  “Do you live around here?” I asked.

  “Just back the road a piece.”

  “What’s the story with the fancy bridge?”

  “The old bridge was done for, so they built a new one.”

  “But why is it restricted like that? What’s up there? Why is it so big?”

  “Nosy parker, are ya?”

  “Can’t help myself. Just curious.”

  “Private interests, best stay out of it.”

  “But what’s up there—is it a business or a factory or what?”

  “If they’d a wanted you to know, they wouldn’t have put that big steel cable acrost it, now would they?”

  “But you must know—I mean, if you live here.”

  “I know enough to keep myself to myself.”

  “What would happen if I crawled under that cable and walked up that road?”

  “Best advice—when you’re done lookin’ out at the water here, take a run over to Halls Harbour, buy yourself a lobster for dinner, and head on back to the big city.”

  There was a no-nonsense edge in his voice that unnerved me. “Sounds good,” I said. “I’m just going to take a walk along the beach first.”

  “Best go that way.” He pointed west, away from wherever the bridge led.

  I glanced the way he pointed, towards the cabin frontage. “There don’t seem to be many vacationers around,” I said.

  “Well, you know what they say….”

  “No. What do they say?”

  “Two seasons. Winter and July.”

  “That explains it,” I said.

  I locked my car and climbed down from the parking lot onto the rocks, and started to pick my way along the beach. I found a large flat rock and sat on it looking out. After a couple of minutes I looked back at the lot. The man’s blue truck was still there but he was nowhere in sight. Perhaps he had gone inside one of the shacks. Something had prevented me from asking directly whether he had seen McBride—it was a sense that if I did, I’d be putting myself in danger.

  I decided to keep walking.

  I continued following the beach as it curved inward and the next time I glanced back, I could no longer see the parking lot. I found myself alone in the quiet wilderness between the rocky shore and the Bay of Fundy.

  I stood still and looked into the distance, trying to focus my attention on McBride. When he’d called me the previous evening, he had been right at the end of Jasper Creek Road, looking at the bridge and describing it to me. Would he have clambered under the cable and walked up the steep gravel slope and into the dense spruce forest at the top? Was he then “stopped,” to use Jacob’s word, and taken somewhere? That seemed the most likely. They had him—whoever they were. And if he had proceeded on foot, where was his car? Or had they let him through, car and all? And was there a connection between this bridge and my abductors in the SUV whom McBride and I had followed onto this very same road? If so, then there must be a link between McBride’s disappearance and the girl in the tree.

  It seemed I had no choice but to find a way to the top of that towering cliff and suss out what exactly was going on up there. If I were to follow the creek away from the coast and back into the dense brush I’d likely find a narrow place to cross it. Once across, I could come back towards the coast along the other side of the creek and then climb up to the ridge without being detected.

  I decided to try it.

  I began to pick my way back along the beach, towards my car. When I was just about in front of the parking area, I was distracted by a strange whining sound. Some distance along the shore below the high-forested ridge, I could make out the shape of something black moving among the rocks.

  I stopped in my tracks.

  I did my best to imitate McBride’s special whistle for Molly. The creature responded, though its movements were awkward. But it was her! I was sure of it. She was half-whimpering, half-barking as sh
e began to make her way towards me. She was noticeably injured, and I was afraid she would hurt herself even more clambering over the sharp rocks.

  I tried to get to her as quickly as possible, but it was slow going for me too. A broken ankle wouldn’t help anyone at this point. I glanced toward the parking lot but there was no sign of the old coot.

  I tried calling softly: “That’s okay, Molly—that’s okay. Take it easy.”

  Finally she was within my reach. I crouched down to get a careful look at her. She licked my face—never my favourite thing—but I was so overwhelmed with the emotion of finding her that I was all tears as I examined her. She had a nasty open wound on her right haunch. Could it be a bite from the guard dogs Jacob had mentioned?

  I wondered how she had ended up on the beach. Had she come down from the top of the cliff? It was a precarious drop. If she had fallen, even from partway down, she could well have internal injuries.

  “Can you walk, Molly?” She had a limp but came painfully along at my side. We climbed slowly up from the rocks onto the flat parking area. I dug for my keys and opened the passenger door of Old Solid. I reached over the seat into the back, grabbed a towel, and spread it out. “Can you climb in?” I patted the passenger seat. She looked at the seat and then at me. I bent down and gingerly lifted her into the car. If only she could talk!

  Once she was still I moved hastily around to the driver’s seat, turned the car around, and began to drive up the steep climb to Jasper Creek Road, keeping the car in low gear.

  I got onto the road proper and drove fast. I needed to get this dog to a vet.

  Chapter 9

  As I was passing the driveway to the arts centre, I could see Jacob cutting brush along its upper ditches. I braked abruptly and pulled over to get directions to the closest vet. I jogged the several yards down to where he was. He glanced up at me, but didn’t say anything—just pointedly kept working.

  “I don’t mean to pester you, Jacob,” I said, “but I’ve got an emergency and I need your help.”

  “What is it?” he asked with a tone of stoic patience, his eyes on his task.

  “I just found my friend’s dog, Molly, down on the Fundy shore and she’s badly injured. I think she fell—or was thrown down from the cliff top. I need to know where to take her.”

  His restrained attitude dropped away and he looked at me.

  “She’s in your car?”

  “Yes.”

  “Let’s have a look.” We walked rapidly up to the top of the driveway.

  I opened the passenger door and Molly attempted to wag her tail, but she was clearly suffering. Jacob leaned in and looked at the bloody wound on her haunch. He moved his hands gently over her rib cage.

  “I don’t feel any broken ribs,” he said. “Maybe she’s just badly bruised. But this bloody gash needs treatment right away.”

  “Does it look like a bite to you?” I asked.

  “It could be, or maybe a cut from a jagged rock. I can’t tell. I’d take her right down to Wolfville. I know them, they’re good.” He gave me clear directions to the vet’s office. “You’ll be there in less than half an hour,” he said.

  “Thank you, I really appreciate this,” I said. He carefully closed the passenger door as I hurried around to the driver’s side.

  “So you found the dog—but not your friend?” he said, just as I was about to get into the car.

  “That’s right,” I said. “I’m completely beside myself about it.”

  “Maybe you should report him missing,” he said. “You could do that while you’re in Wolfville.”

  “You’re right, ” I said, thinking about how McBride was in this fix precisely because he had defied the RCMP’s warning.

  I broke the speed limit and was crossing the Cornwallis River in just over twenty minutes. After one look at Molly, the veterinarian took her for immediate examination. “Wait here,” he said. I paced around in reception for a few moments and then decided to call Sophie.

  “What’s happening, Roz? I’m going nuts,” she said.

  I explained that I hadn’t yet located McBride. “But Sophie…” I paused to get a grip on myself, “I’ve found Molly.”

  “Oh, God. Is she dead?” Sophie asked.

  “No, but she’s seriously injured. I’m in Wolfville. The vet’s with her now. I’m not sure whether she’s going to make it.”

  “I’m coming out there, I’ll be on the next bus. I’ve already checked—it gets in at three o’clock.”

  “I’ll pick you up.”

  I was relieved. Sophie had been my anchor on many occasions. I knew she’d be a mess now with McBride missing, but we would help each other through this—whatever happened.

  The vet’s young assistant came out from the back, said it would be a while before they could fill me in on Molly’s condition, and suggested I go for a coffee. I stepped out onto the street. I had a couple of hours until Sophie arrived.

  I was hesitant about talking to the police, but with nowhere to turn I decided to take Jacob’s advice and pay a visit to the Wolfville detachment. I walked down Main Street and went into the station.

  “Does Corporal Monaghan work here?” I asked at the desk.

  “She’s out on a call. Would you like to see someone else?”

  “Any idea when she might be back?”

  “Impossible to say. Could be any time. Or if she’s tied up with a case, we may not see her until tomorrow.”

  “Can I leave a message for her?”

  “You can leave a message on her phone.” He gave me her card.

  I was back to square one. I already had her card. But just as I was leaving the building, I spotted her pulling into the parking lot. Okay, I thought, it’s meant to be.

  I walked over to her car. She looked up at me and smiled. “Hi, Roz, how are you?” Like we were old friends.

  “Not the best,” I said. “Can we sit down and talk? I need your help.”

  “Let’s go in.”

  We settled into an interview room. She asked me if I wanted a coffee.

  “I’m fine, thanks,” I said.

  “Okay. What’s up?”

  “I’m in town because I had to bring McBride’s dog to the vet.”

  “I see.”

  “After we saw you yesterday, McBride went back up North Mountain to do a little investigating.”

  “I officially warned both of you to keep your noses out of this case.”

  “I know you did, but he was alarmed by the day’s events. McBride is a stubborn guy and an experienced investigator and now he’s disappeared.”

  “So, you’re here to report a missing person.”

  “He’s definitely missing. He was supposed to pick up his wife at the airport this morning and didn’t show up. But this is more than just missing. McBride called me yesterday shortly before sundown to say that he was standing in front of the security cable that goes across this industrial bridge at the end of Jasper Creek Road. Do you know the place I’m talking about?”

  “I haven’t seen it but I know where you mean.”

  “Well, it’s at the end of the exact same road we’d followed the SUV onto earlier in the day. Anyway, either we lost the phone connection or something happened to him right when he was talking to me. In any case our call was interrupted and that’s the last I heard from him.”

  She didn’t look convinced. “The cell phone signal up that way is sporadic at best. It’s not unusual.”

  “There’s more. When I found out he didn’t make it to the airport this morning, I went down Jasper Creek Road to look for him. What I found was his dog, Molly, badly injured, and crawling over the rocks. She has what could be a very nasty bite, and someone told me there are a couple of unpleasant guard dogs up there beyond that bridge. Possibly she was thrown down, or chased and fell from the top of the bluf
f onto the beach. The short of it is, I’ve worked with McBride for a long time and he’s not an amateur. He would have found a way to contact me by now if he could. I know he’s in danger, and we need to get on this now. I need your help. It’s an emergency.”

  “You say someone told you there were guard dogs. Did you see any?”

  “No.”

  “So you found McBride’s dog on the beach?”

  “That’s right.”

  “How do you know there wasn’t some kind of water mishap? Maybe the dog went into the water and McBride tried to save her—or the reverse. That shore is notoriously rough. Or possibly he went exploring off-road and ran into trouble. The woods are thick there—there are creeks and bogs and fallen trees. If, as you say, it was sundown it would be easy to get lost and disoriented. It’s not uncommon.”

  “That’s not what happened.”

  “You don’t know that. You’re surmising based on suspicions you have—but you don’t have real evidence to back them up. It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours right? It doesn’t qualify as an official missing persons case yet.”

  “Look, I’m asking you to go out there and check it out. There are cameras at that bridge—can’t you examine the surveillance footage? Can’t you look for his car? It’s a red Subaru wagon.”

  “When I get a chance I’ll take a run up the mountain, but not before the twenty-four-hour period has elapsed.”

  “Listen, Corporal, I didn’t make up the events of yesterday. That girl out there wrapped in the flag, the helicopter, my bizarre abduction in an unmarked SUV. McBride and I didn’t just imagine that same vehicle turning onto the Jasper Creek Road—that’s all real. Something’s going on!”

  “You need to calm down. And by the way—you never sent me those photos.”

  “How do I know they won’t be used against me?”

  “I’d just like to see them.”

  “I’m still figuring out how to use my new phone.”

  “I thought you were a professional.”

  I stood up. “So you’ll be in touch after you’ve checked into it?”