Northern Lights: A Due South Novel

Chapter 6: A Higher Calling

Benton Fraser's log cabin on McLeod Lake did not have a phone line, a TV, or internet access. It did not have electricity, running water, or indoor plumbing. No cell phone signal reached the little hanging valley. Fraser warmed the cabin with wood harvested from the surrounding forest and read by the light of candles and lanterns. Water came from the lake or from melted snow. Relieving oneself meant a bone-chilling walk to the outhouse—or a bucket.

The cabin offered plenty of hard work and solitude to absorb Elizabeth's frustration. Tamara's work emails and case files had yielded no obvious suspects. Her personal laptop and cell phone were missing and her car, found parked near the crime scene, had been ransacked. Clara and the Blacks knew nothing of Tamara's movements that night. Brendan Corrigan had refused to speak to the police until he met with a lawyer in Whitehorse.

Everyone was a suspect, and no one was a suspect, except, perhaps, for Constable Franklin, who was not so much above suspicion as below it.

They had, however, opened the floodgates of local grievances. Old-timers blamed the mining company for digging up the mountain and driving away their game. The company blamed the Tutchone for negotiating such a high price for building a mine on their land. The Tutchone blamed the mine for bringing drugs and disorder to the town. Everyone blamed the Mounties for not enforcing the law to their satisfaction. The local Mounties blamed their superiors—especially Fraser—for not giving them enough resources to do their jobs. And so on, and so forth.

The forensic examination had confirmed gunpowder blowback and capsaicin on Tamara's hands and jacket. The report also revealed a man's DNA under her fingernails—suggesting she had wounded the killer. Tamara's cell phone and personal laptop were still missing: they weren't on her body, in her car, at the detachment, or at her home.

The Frasers had made no progress and would soon need to return to their duties in Dawson City and Whitehorse. Once they did, the case would be one more file on the desks of an over-burdened investigative team.

On their last afternoon in Bear Falls, Elizabeth unleashed her ire on the firewood. Fraser's woodshed held a truckload of thick logs that needed to be chopped into pieces small enough for the cabin stove. If need be, she would cut them down to kindling.

To the west, a dark cloud that threatened to blot out the setting sun. The flat light and blowing snow made the road, the drifts, and the lake all blend into one. Even the bare cliffs across the lake were fading into indiscernible shadow. Though the cold nipped Elizabeth's cheeks, the smell of spruce smoke from the cabin warmed her heart.

That is, until the white RCMP SUV pulled off the logging road and into their driveway. Elizabeth was not happy to see the wide-eyed, diminutive Constable Franklin approaching. Franklin had spent two days following the Frasers around town, introducing them to people Elizabeth already knew and alienating those she didn't. She had hoped to sneak out of town without seeing him again.

With an enormous whack, she brought the axe down on the log, splitting it down the middle. As Franklin slipped on the well-worn path, she lifted the axe again and again, hammering it down until the frozen wood split.

Franklin flashed Elizabeth a foolish smile just as she obliterated another log. She set the axe on the stump. Although she wished them to be better strangers, the rules of courtesy prohibited holding a weapon during a conversation.

"Good evening, Elizabeth." Franklin stood two inches shorter than Elizabeth. While she stared at his forehead, his gaze flicked from her axe to the pile of wood.

"Good evening, Constable. What brings you up here this late in the afternoon?"

In the forest by the end of the lake, Ogilvie and Montgomery yipped and howled with the sled dogs. Franklin lost his nervous look when Elizabeth put two fingers in her mouth and unleashed an ear-splitting whistle.