Lion's Head Revisited Read online

  His father had gone inside to cook supper. Despite Dan’s pleas, he’d decided to boil the hot dogs rather than roast them on the fire.

  “Too easy to lose,” Stuart had pronounced. “Then we’ll have to go to bed hungry.”

  The next time he came out, he was holding a stubby by the neck. The case of beer had gone into the trunk along with the rest of the groceries. Dan didn’t like beer. It fizzed like pop, but it was for grown-ups and tasted rotten the time he sneaked a mouthful from an open bottle left on the kitchen counter. His Aunt Marge didn’t like it either. It was the only time he ever saw her lose her temper with her wayward brother, who could hardly be bothered to pay attention once he’d reached a certain point in his alcoholic downslide.

  Dan and his father sat listening to the call of a distant whippoorwill while the fire crackled. His father went back into the cottage again, only this time he didn’t return for quite a while. When he finally came back out he made his way uncertainly, holding two paper plates, nearly dropping one as he placed them on the wooden table. The hot dogs were swollen and flesh coloured, the buns loose and flappy. He looked down at his plate and rested his chin on his hands, then he slowly lowered his face.

  At first Dan thought his father was saying grace, but after a moment he realized he was crying. A vein beat thickly in his father’s neck, his skin glinting in the firelight. He smelled of alcohol.

  Dan knew better than to disturb him when he was drinking. He dug into the beans and wolfed down his hot dog after covering it with ketchup and mustard and relish. When he looked up again, his father’s face was resting on his plate. Slowly Dan finished his supper, picked up his leftovers, and dropped them in the fire.

  “Dad,” he called, “I’m going to bed.” He said it again a little louder when his father didn’t stir.

  After a moment Stuart Sharp raised his head. Traces of beans stuck to his cheek before sliding down and falling onto the table. In the firelight, he looked like a creature with a melting face that Dan and Leyla had seen in a horror movie a few weeks earlier. Every time the monster appeared onscreen, they’d screamed till it became a game. Now, it seemed less like a game. Dan felt a revulsion for his father, watching him as he got to his feet and staggered over to the fire.

  It happened quickly. One second he was lurching forward then the next he went down into the flames, throwing sparks into the night air. Dan was never sure what took control of him. Suddenly he was no longer an eight-year-old boy, but a fear-driven adult grabbing his father by the sleeves and pulling until he had him safely away, the older man batting the embers and sparks from his clothing, examining his damaged hands.

  Young Daniel left him there and went off to bed. In the morning, his father sat drinking coffee at the picnic table, his hands bandaged, burn marks raw on his cheeks. Neither of them mentioned the incident then and it was never spoken of.

  Now, the adult Dan turned from the view and continued down the far side of the promontory. Horace had said the largest and deepest of the caves was off the main trail and not easily found. Nevertheless, Dan found it. It was larger and more intricate than any of the others. The chill hit him as soon as he entered. He was able to walk upright for nearly half a minute before the ceiling lowered, forcing him to crawl as the stone bit into his hands and knees.

  The rock seeped and glistened around him. He took out a mini Mag and pointed it upward. Shadows flitted across the roof, childhood monsters coming back to haunt him.

  The drive back home had been marred by his father’s drinking. They’d had a fender-bender. His father was hungover, the highway nearly empty, but Stuart Sharp had still somehow collided with another car. Both men pulled over to the side of the road. Dan waited, tension knotting his stomach as the other driver swore at his father for weaving onto the wrong side of the road. It took an hour for the OPP to show up. From that day on, Dan had understood that his father was a failure of a man living a failure of a life. Why had he even bothered to try? He still couldn’t answer that question even now. For years afterward, he had chastised himself for being so uncharitable that he felt no sympathy for a man trying to recapture a bit of past happiness.

  The feeling of being in the cave surrounded by darkness was seductive. Suddenly he seemed a long way from everything: home, work, family. It almost felt as though they might start to matter less the longer he stayed. If he had a blanket, he could imagine stretching out and drifting to sleep. Comforting. Like death.

  He continued till there was no further space left to explore, then he headed back. Daylight hit him like a hangover. It was tempting just to crawl back inside, but he had things to figure out.

  He heard a ragged cry and looked up. Four crows swooped past in a game of chase, disappearing over the lip of rock, then reappearing after a moment, so close he could hear the snapping of wings. They stayed with him while he continued along the trail.

  The next cave was shallow, but the one after it was deceptively deep. It started off as a vertical crevice. He crawled down into it. A sign warned climbers not to attempt to go too far. After a long passageway he came to a space that opened up into a small chamber. There at last he was afforded a glimpse into what might have been a real hideout. The floor was littered with debris. Someone had spent time here, though nothing told him that a boy had been held against his will. Then again, it might not have been against Jeremy’s will.

  Dan’s eyes caught a tinselled glitter among the rocks, something shrinking from his Maglite as he moved forward, trying not to hit his head on the low-hanging ceiling.

  A thin chain.

  He took off his T-shirt and wrapped it around his fingers, then began to pull. At first the chain resisted, then it slowly unwound from the rock it was caught on. It was a rosary, a thin circlet of beads ending in a silver crucifix.

  Redemption.

  He pocketed it and headed back to the entrance, blinking in the light.

  For a moment, the sky seemed grander than he remembered. It blinded him, as though he’d lost all perspective underground. When his sight returned he dipped into his pocket and pulled out the chain. On back of the tiny cross someone had carved the initials MV. Marietta Valverde. He remembered the dismissed nanny’s assertion that the two women were going against God’s will by raising their child together.

  I never ignore people who hate, he’d told Janice. It’s too dangerous.

  Dan recalled Horace McLean’s comments on Calvinist doctrine, the long, dark night of human thinking fastening onto the concept of predetermination. Who gets saved and who doesn’t. Then he thought of his father. Maybe that was why Stuart Sharp hadn’t fought harder for a better life. He’d already known he was damned.

  TEN

  The Return

  DAN WAS GRATEFUL for the long drive home. By the time he reached the outskirts of Toronto he felt altered, as if a subtle transmutation had occurred, a reordering of his senses. He had needed time to regress to his habitual self, the one that Nick and others knew him by. Otherwise they might have found him unrecognizably changed by his encounter with the past.

  After thinking about it, he had decided not to turn the rosary over to the local police, as he knew he ought to have done. If they hadn’t bothered to check all the caves as thoroughly as he had then it was their fault for missing a substantial clue to Jeremy Bentham’s disappearance.

  In the meantime, he had plans for it.

  Heading down the Don Valley Parkway, he got Janice on the phone. The crucifix glittered in the light where it hung from the rear-view mirror.

  “Any further calls from the kidnapper?” he asked.

  “No, nothing. But Jeremy’s surrogate called to complain that you’d been there interrogating her. Sarah Nealon. She sounded afraid. She didn’t even ask for money this time.”

  “Let me know if she calls again.”

  He asked if she was free for a visit.

  “Sure, we’re here,” she said, without sounding the least bit curious. “How did you find Mr. McLean?�
�

  “Odd, as you said. I saw his bull too. You’re lucky to be alive. I’ll fill you in when I get there.”

  The Junction was an old neighbourhood of well-tended lawns and staid brick homes. Despite rampant gentrification, however, it still maintained an urban edge for the boho crowd with its residential lofts and an abandoned railway track put to better use as an off-road cycling path.

  As Dan turned down Janice’s street, a copper-coloured Volvo pulled away from the curb and cut sharply into the roadway. Swerving to avoid it, he glimpsed an older woman with a worried expression behind the wheel.

  Janice looked panicked when she opened the door. She was jittery, her words rushed.

  “She was here again. Just now. I saw her.”

  “Who was here?”

  “That strange woman I told you about.” There was panic in her eyes. “I — I think she might be the kidnapper. I took her photo and she ran off.”

  She held up her cellphone. The image matched the description she’d given him on their first meeting: mousy looking, brown hair fading into grey. Sad eyes. Her face was set in a grimace of pain. It was the woman he’d seen driving the Volvo.

  “Stay here. I’ll be back.”

  He jumped into his car and tore down the street, grateful there were no strolling grannies or kids on bicycles flying out of driveways.

  He headed in the direction the woman had taken, hoping she wouldn’t be that far off yet. Instinct made him turn west on Dundas.

  He’d been driving for a couple of minutes, cursing himself for not having gone east instead, when he caught sight of the Volvo at a stoplight two intersections ahead. He edged forward, bypassing drivers who looked anxiously out their windows, honking at him as he zipped in and out of the lanes.

  He’d nearly caught up, pulling into her lane four cars behind, when she glanced in the side-view mirror. Her expression was still worried. Dan couldn’t tell if she’d seen him or not. Without warning, she veered right.

  With a quick look over his shoulder Dan turned, almost sideswiping an oncoming van. The driver laid on the horn, giving him the finger and blocking the intersection. Dan ignored him, hoping he would drive on, but this was an angry driver. He rolled down his window. Dan did the same.

  “Yeah, you’re right. I’m a dickhead,” Dan said to expedite the situation.

  “You nearly smashed into me,” the outraged motorist shouted.

  “Yes, sorry. I didn’t see you.”

  “It’s not a turning lane.”

  “You’re right.”

  By then, others began to ply their horns and edge around them.

  “Got the message,” Dan said.

  The other driver drove on, leaving Dan to ease ahead, but the light was red again. He waited impatiently for the signal to turn. By then the copper-coloured Volvo had disappeared. He pressed the gas and the car surged forward.

  He didn’t know where he was. Richview, possibly, or maybe Weston. The neighbourhood was sheer sprawl. Block after block of manicured lawns and split-level homes. He trolled the nearby streets, but there was no sign of the Volvo.

  After twenty minutes he gave up and headed back.

  Janice met him at the door. Her eyes flitted up and down the street.

  “Did you catch her?”

  “No. She was headed north, but I lost her at an intersection about ten minutes from here.”

  She let him in. It was an old house, more functional than comfortable. Certainly not beautiful. Stripped of anything decorative. The light wattage seemed unusually low. No doubt that was because of Jeremy’s ASD, Dan realized. The boy’s needs had come first.

  He followed her into the kitchen. A white cat looked over disdainfully from a countertop.

  Ashley sat at the table, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. Despite this, Dan was struck again by her looks. Dennis Braithwaite must have been bowled over to lose his wife to such an attractive woman.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “Absolutely,” Ashley assured him with that clipped delivery. “But it was a shock.”

  “She’s not okay,” Janice contradicted. “We’re both distraught.”

  Her cell lay on the table with the woman’s photo displayed.

  “Any idea who she is?” Dan asked.

  Janice looked over at Ashley. “I asked her. She doesn’t know if it’s her mother.”

  Ashley shook her head. “Impossible to say. It’s been years.”

  Janice reached a protective arm around her. “The last time Ashley saw her mother the police were taking her away in handcuffs.”

  “It’s okay,” Dan said. “I’ve asked a personal favour of a police officer to put a trace out on her. When I find out what there is to know I’ll get back to you on it.”

  “No, don’t.” Ashley looked startled. “She … she’s a monster. I never want to see her again.”

  “You won’t have to. I promise,” Dan replied, though she didn’t seem reassured. He turned to Janice. “You said you advertised for a new nanny when Marietta left. Is it possible she’s someone who applied for the position and got turned down?”

  Janice shook her head. “She’s definitely not anyone we saw. I’d remember. I suppose it’s possible she was someone we didn’t see. There were quite a few applications.”

  “When you posted the ad, was it online?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you specify that Jeremy has autism?”

  Janice nodded vigorously. “Oh, yes. It takes someone with special qualifications to look after him. It couldn’t just be a regular nanny.”

  “And did this woman come by after you started advertising for the position?”

  Janice paused to think. “Yes — the first time was not long after that. Do you think there’s a connection?”

  “I’m not sure,” Dan said. “But there must be a reason for it.”

  “I thought she was on the verge of speaking today, but I surprised her by taking her picture. Then she ran off. But why would she come here? I mean, if she has Jeremy then why would she come back?” She pressed a palm to her forehead. “This is crazy!”

  “Is it possible this woman is connected in some way to your surrogate?”

  “Why would she be?” Ashley said.

  “When I saw Sarah the other day she was high on meth. And she was faking a pregnancy.”

  “Faking a pregnancy?” Janice looked astonished. “Why?”

  Dan shook his head. “That stuff does strange things to your brain. I wondered if she was trying to convince herself she was pregnant so that if she suddenly found herself with a real child, like Jeremy, it would somehow all be justifiable in her mind.”

  A look of bewilderment came over Janice. “You mean if she took Jeremy for herself? But he’s too old to be a newborn.”

  “When you’re high, things don’t have to make sense. Sarah wears an ankle monitor, so it would be impossible for her to kidnap anybody without leaving a trail. But if she found someone to help her … who knows? She said her mother was looking forward to having a grandchild of her own.”

  “She was very angry the first time she came here demanding money. She said it was our fault she turned to drugs. We’re still not sure how she found us.”

  Dan nodded. “She told me that when the agency dropped her she got a look at your file. Your address was in it.”

  “Unbelievably careless,” Ashley said. “We should sue.”

  “Possibly, yes,” Dan said. “Did she ever mention losing a child before?”

  “No. Did she say she had?”

  Dan shook his head. “Not in so many words, but she said something terrible happened to a boy and it worried her a great deal. She seemed to be concerned about children in general. She said she robbed a bank to start a campaign to solve world hunger.”

  “Oh, that,” Ashley said, rolling her eyes. “Yes, we heard. The gun wasn’t even real.”

  “We knew about the robbery,” Janice said. “But we never knew the reason for it. It sounds
bizarre.”

  “I doubt the money would have gone to charity organizations. It was more likely a way of justifying her actions to herself. It’s possible she could have thought that by kidnapping Jeremy she’d be protecting him.”

  “Well, that’s just great!” Janice said with disgust.

  Dan took a napkin from the table then reached into his pocket and held up the rosary. “Do either of you recognize this?”

  Janice reached for it. “Those are Marietta’s initials.”

  Dan pulled it back. “No, don’t touch it.”

  “Where did you find it?”

  “Inside one of the caves on the Bruce Peninsula.”

  “Oh my god! That stupid girl.” Janice’s gaze was fixed on the chain. “What — what will you do with it?”

  “I’ll hand it over to the police and let them do their investigation.” Dan slipped the chain back in his pocket.

  “Do you think they have Jeremy?”

  “If they do, they’re not keeping him at their place. I was there two days ago. And the police had already been there. How much did you know about Marietta before you hired her?”

  “She came highly recommended from an agency that specialized in finding help for children with special needs. Apart from that — nothing.”

  “The agency cleared her,” Ashley said.

  Janice nodded. “All we knew was that she was from Manila and was fluent in English. From what she told us, her family is poor. Marietta’s father is blind, so she was used to helping people with disabilities. It was hard to let her go, but we had to.”

  “What about the boyfriend, Ramón? Do you know anything about him?”

  Janice shook her head. “Nothing much. He never talked about his family. He was very quiet. Marietta ruled the roost whenever he was around. She only brought him here on weekends.”