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  “I’ll be back in a half-hour. Just hold the fort. If something happens, call me!” said Tom, walking on, then stopping himself, turning back around to Hanes. “Hey, Mark?”

  “Yeah?” asked Hanes.

  “Get those folks to back up over there!” Tom pointed to two couples, neighbours from the east side of the property, standing beside a police truck, intrigued by the situation. One of them, a short, obese man, appeared to be taking photos with this smartphone.

  “And cut the power to this property!” Tom said, pointing his thumb at the Carignan house. “Let’s see if that destabilizes those boys.” He caught himself before moving on. “And don’t do anything else. Just sit tight ‘til I get back!”

  “You got it, Brooder! I mean, Boss!” said Hanes, deliberately poking Tom, who ignored him. Molly Kearns turned to Hanes.

  “What did you call him? Brooder?” she asked him, puzzled.

  “Rookie!” Hanes said, with a smile.

  Kearns gave Hanes her evil eye. Hanes pretended to be frightened.

  A Sûreté du Québec cruiser rolled in, windows down, Lieutenant Yu at the wheel. Officer Gauthier, her partner, was in the passenger seat. He was a big man and seemed to fill his side of the car.

  “Oh, great. Where’d they come from?” Tom was annoyed.

  “They’re here to observe,” said Hanes to Tom.

  “Observing is good,” said Tom, walking over to his truck. Hanes and Kearns watched him drive off.

  Tom pulled over and called Chief Bernier’s house, the rain just holding back in a grey sky. He stepped out of the truck for the conversation.

  Gabrielle Bernier answered, as usual. “Oh, Tom,” she said.

  “I’ve got to talk with him, Gabrielle.” There was a long pause.

  “He’s really not himself today, Tom.”

  “Well, I’ll settle for the guy he happens to be today, but I’ve got to talk to him.”

  Tom admired her for how she cared for Art. He knew of the great work she had done as a lawyer, too. Bernier was a lucky man to have such a smart, accomplished lady in his camp.

  “I’ll put him on,” said Gabrielle, with a heartfelt sigh.

  Tom watched a large crow land on a branch in a line of trees across the road. The crow bobbed its black head and then sidestepped along the branch to move farther up along it. It sat there, observing its surroundings. Tom knew nothing of the behaviour of crows, or any birds for that matter. Tom only knew there were many crows in and around Beaufort County. Why, he did not know. He wondered what this crow was waiting for. Perhaps it was wondering the same thing of him, as he leaned on his truck, cellular at his ear.

  What the hell was Bernier up to? Tom wondered.

  “Yeah,” the scruffy voice said, and nothing else.

  “Art, it’s me, Brooder! Art?”

  “Yeah,” said Art, again.

  “Are you okay?” asked Tom.

  “Yeah, yeah, what’s up, Tom?”

  “I need you on this situation, Chief. Why aren’t you here with me on this?”

  “Really, Tom ‘Brooder’ Doran needs me?”

  “Yeah, Arthur, I need you. Big surprise. Come on!”

  “I don’t really want to talk now.”

  “Well, sorry to bother you. I’ll just tell everyone who’s involved in this crazy thing that we’re inconveniencing you. If you think that will work.”

  Tom heard noises and rustling on the other end. “Arthur, I need you to get your act together. We’ve got a situation.”

  “You’ve got a situation!”

  “A couple kids took three of your friends hostage.”

  “I know. Gabrielle told me. Henley, Davis and that asshole Lennox. He’s no friend of mine, by the way. So that’s two friends held hostage by a bunch of kids and one asshole who’s the nephew of a friend of mine.”

  “I stand corrected. What do you suggest we do about it, Arthur?”

  “What do you suggest we do about it?”

  “Stop that, for fuck’s sake! Arthur, I follow your lead. I always have.”

  “Well, maybe it’s time you take the lead?”

  “If I go in there,” said Tom, “and bust into that house, somebody’s going to get hurt, you know that. You know that’s what I’m capable of, and you know what damage it can cause. I don’t want those kids hurt.” Tom waited for all that to sink into Arthur’s soggy brain.

  Then suddenly he heard the voice he knew so well, that of the old Arthur Bernier, the authority, the Police Chief, the leader in the community, but with a hint of reflection, even sadness. “They deserve your protection, those Carignan kids. They deserved better. Kids should never be driven to take the law into their own hands. We let them down, those kids, that’s why they did this. Do you even remember being a kid, Tom? Eh, do you?”

  “Arthur, don’t go there, come on. We don’t have time for this.”

  “Yeah, don’t go there. Nah, we shouldn’t go there.” Bernier, sounded confused. “Maybe we don’t remember that we were kids, I mean, not enough? We don’t think like kids, but we should. That’s the key, Tom. Remember that feeling when you did something really wrong, and you expected your parents to punish you so bad that your ass would sting just thinking about it? Were you ever punished really badly? Well, if you think back hard, well, you could forgive your parents for that punishment if you did what you did from your heart. If not, well, you were in deep shit. But, you could forgive them an awful ass-kicking if what you did was out of your heart. Did you get that? Your kid heart. Even you, Brooder. Yep, kids deserve, well, um … better.”

  “Relax, Art, you’re getting all worked up and barely making sense.”

  “I’m making sense!” Bernier shouted back.

  “Okay, okay, Arthur, relax,” said Tom.

  “You’re not listening!” shouted Bernier. “You were always so goddam stubborn! Everyone should call you Tom Stubborn Ox, not Brooder! An ox!”

  Tom took a few deep breaths, and when spoke, he spoke more softly, so as not to get Arthur going again. “Last year, on your birthday, Art—what happened that night?”

  “Nothing. We shot a deer. There was a contest. I lost,” said Bernier.

  “Okay, Arthur. Okay, you rest.”

  “Yeah, don’t you have work to do?” Bernier asked.

  “Yeah, your work,” said Tom, remembering how, over the years, they had often ribbed each other hard. The joke fell flat this time, though. And it felt kind of sad.

  “I’ll leave you to your demons, for now, Art. We’ll have to talk later. I’ve got to get back, but this isn’t finished.”

  Gabrielle returned on the line. “Tom, it’s me.”

  “Gabrielle, what the hell was that? The town needs him. He can’t just opt out of his responsibilities, get drunk, and lecture me on how to do my job.”

  “He’s a good man,” she said, her voice cracking. “He respects you, Tom,” she added.

  “Yeah, I can tell,” said Tom, sarcastically, though he knew Gabrielle had her hands full. “I’ve got to go, Gabrielle,” was the best he could come up with, disappointed with the outcome of his call.

  He hopped back behind the driver’s wheel.

  Back at the Carignan house, Tom found most of his crew huddled behind the first responder fire truck. Three officers kept rifles locked on an upper window of the house. Lieutenant Yu and Officer Gauthier leaned on their cruiser and kept their pistols aimed at the house. As Tom approached, behind the barricade, he saw the shattered window and its curtain wafting inside. He rushed toward his huddled crew and found Officer Kearns and two paramedics attending to Sergeant Hanes, who was lying on the lawn.

  “How bad is it?” asked Tom.

  “I’m fine!” said Hanes.

  “He was nearly shot,” said Kearns, standing back.

  “Nearly?”


  “I heard a shot and I turned away fast. I tripped.”

  “You tripped?” asked Tom.

  “Cut myself on a rock,” Hanes admitted. “There’s a sharp boulder over there.”

  Tom looked over at an elaborate rock garden. “Get him to the hospital.”

  “I don’t need to go to the hospital!”

  Tom kneeled for a closer look. The lower left leg of his pants had been cut open, and a paramedic was holding a thick white compress against his ankle. The paramedic pulled the compress away to show Tom the thin, straight wound.

  “What happened here?”

  “We turned the power off!” said Hanes.

  “Okay, I figured as much. And?” Silence. “What?”

  “We turned the power off, and we tried going in. Thought we’d surprise them,” said Hanes.

  Tom froze. His fury grew quickly and visibly. Everyone backed away, except Hanes, who remained on the ground.

  “I asked you … no I told you … to just sit there until I got back! Was that so hard?”

  “Thought we could get one up on them and get this whole thing resolved fast! They’re just kids, Brooder!” argued Hanes. “And, you left! You were gone a while! I don’t know, thought it would be a good strategy.”

  Tom blasted him. “First of all, I have a cell phone! I carry it so a dickhead like you can call me when he gets a really stupid idea! Got it? Second, those mere ‘kids’ shot at you, is that right?”

  Shame crawled over Hanes like a massive centipede.

  “You weren’t here! The Chief wasn’t here! I didn’t know what to think!” he squawked. “Can you blame me? I tried to do something!”

  “I wasn’t gone that long,” said Tom.

  “Yes, you were!”

  “Alright, alright, I’m here now and I’m not going anywhere. Okay? You decide, go to the hospital or stay, tough guy. If you stay, you listen to me from now on or I’ll shoot you myself. And I won’t miss. Goddam idiot.” Tom addressed the rest of the crew. “Anybody else have a brilliant idea? Hey? Anyone?” Then he turned to both Hanes and Kearns.

  “Did they communicate at all?” asked Tom.

  “No,” said Kearns. “We shut off the power. We were about to go in through the side door.”

  “Through the side door? How? This house has custom locks and massive doors?”

  “Well, we have tools, but we heard shots come from up there before we even started moving.”

  Tom looked up with concern. “They fired first?”

  Kearns nodded. “Then we shot back.”

  “Marvellous,” said Tom, then walking over to one of the marksmen. “Was anyone hit inside the house?”

  “I don’t think so, Chief,” said the marksman. “I’m pretty certain not.”

  “That’s Deputy Chief,” Tom corrected. He looked around the property, then grabbed a pair of binoculars from an officer. He brought them to his eyes and scanned the walls and roofs of the house.

  “What are you looking for?” asked Hanes, getting to his feet without too much difficulty. Tom tossed the binoculars back to the officer.

  “They were watching us! They have cameras all over the house. Fair to assume they heard you when you were planning it all. Smart little sons-of-bitches.”

  Hanes limped over to the officer and grabbed the binoculars to see for himself.

  “Go ahead, Mark, kick yourself if you can,” said Tom.

  “Shit,” said Hanes. “Okay, so now we wait them out. We outlast them!”

  The Carignan house lights and exterior security lights suddenly came on again.

  “Fuck me,” said Hanes, “they’ve got a generator?”

  Tom had to laugh. He could see the tiny red light of a camera, blinking.

  Tom decided to talk to the boys, stretching his arms out and taking a few steps out from the police line.

  “Come on, boys! Come on out and let’s talk! I know you can hear me. And I know you don’t really want to shoot anyone, so let’s stop this charade and have a try at getting you what you want. What do you say? I know you want justice for your father. Come out and let’s see what we can do together. Guys, that’s the best I’ve got. That’s it. What else do you want? What? A plane out of the country? Where would you go? Let’s be real here and stop fucking around. You don’t want this. We don’t want this. Come on, there’s no good ending here.”

  Tom paced back and forth in front of the barricade, looking at the windows and doors for any sign of activity. “Guys, let’s talk! Give me a call. I know you have the number.” His phone didn’t ring. “I’m going to call you, then. Okay? I’m dialling you.”

  Tom tapped at his phone, put it to his ear and waited. Nothing.

  “Come on, answer,” he whispered to himself, then again shouted at the house.

  “Guys, this is your chance. Right now. We can wait out here as long as it takes, but it’s not going to give you anything. It’ll just get worse.”

  A few metres away, Hanes nudged Kearns. “He must really like these kids. I’ve never heard him talk so much.”

  “I have. A few minutes ago, when he was chewing you out,” said Kearns.

  “Rookie!” said Hanes right back at her. She smiled and moved off to join her colleagues further along the barricade.

  Hanes winced from the pain of his flesh wound. He watched Tom, who stood with his hands on his hips, staring at the house as though expecting it to talk back. It didn’t.

  Out of the corner of his eye Hanes caught sight of a slate grey Audi approaching fast along Chemin Van Kleet.

  A police cruiser, parked at an angle, blocked Catherine from getting her Audi to its usual spot, next to the old, leaning oak. She burst out of the car, scanned the situation, and ran toward the front entrance. Tom and two officers raced to intercept her.

  “I’m going into my house!” she yelled at them, twisting herself out of their grip. Tom, hands out, blocked her. “Easy, easy,” he said. “You can’t go in there.”

  “Why not? What’s going on? I need to see my boys!”

  “You will, I promise. Just calm down, okay.”

  Tom looked her right in the eyes. She understood he was serious.

  “Good,” he said, “Okay, come with me. Please. There’s something I need you to see before you talk to your boys. I presume you’ve been driving since we called you and you didn’t see their video?”

  “Their video?” said Catherine, angst and worry filling her eyes.

  “Come with me,” said Tom, leading her toward the barricade of police vehicles. They walked slowly, as Catherine prepared herself for the worst. Tom sat her down inside a police cruiser. Officer Kearns handed Catherine a laptop.

  “Just press here,” Kearns said softly.

  Catherine pressed the key. She immediately recognized the corner of the living room as it appeared on the screen. The sight of the three bound captives, lined up like animals at a slaughterhouse, shocked her. Her mouth hung open. She drew both hands to her cheeks in disbelief.

  Catherine involuntarily said her sons’ names, very softly, one after the other. “Noah. Jack.” Then she was utterly silent as the video progressed, and Jack read out their demands in a youthful, passionate voice. Every word from her older son brought more tears to her eyes. She couldn’t look away, however difficult it was to listen and watch. This was another person talking, raging at the camera, making threats and expressing staggering hurt and anger. Not her boy. But it was her boy. He was that person, too. The angry, hurt one. Another person within her boy, a person she didn’t know. She cried more as the video came to an end. The police officers around her stood silently, waiting respectfully, and then Officer Kearns reached over and freed Catherine of the computer. In terrible pain, she got herself out of the cruiser.

  “I need to see my sons now,” she told Tom.

 
“Come.” And Tom led her to the middle of the barricade, where there was a space between vehicles, a way through to the rear entrance. He gestured to her to move forward.

  “One thing,” he said to her. “Don’t go any farther than ten feet from our police line.”

  “Why? My sons won’t shoot me. There’s no danger.”

  “Not to you, no. Don’t go any further than that, please listen.”

  “But why?”

  “I need you out here to draw them out. If you go closer, or say, get the idea of going inside to talk to them, you might not come back out, and I’d have no leverage out here. I need you to talk some sense into them. To let the three guys go. You understand that, right?”

  Catherine nodded.

  “Now as you walk toward the house, I expect they’ll be happy to talk to you, maybe open a window or even a door. I’ll tell you when to stop. Don’t go any farther, you got me?”

  Catherine turned toward the house and began walking slowly. Behind her, the police officers took cover, watching the house closely. Several rifles were aimed at the rear door and the upper window.

  “Easy now, Catherine.” said Tom.

  Catherine took slow steps. With each one, her mind flashed with memories of her boys. Looking at the rear entrance, she saw Jack appear behind the dark glass. He slid the glass door aside, holding a rifle in his other hand.

  “Jack!” she yelled.

  “Mom!”

  “Don’t move, Catherine. Don’t move!” shouted Tom.

  Catherine froze, resisting the urge to run to her son. Jack stayed around the edge of the doorframe, rifle out toward the barricade.

  Tom swung back to his crew. “Nobody shoot! Nobody move!”

  Catherine was paralyzed.

  “Jack,” she yelled out. “Jack, what are you doing?”

  “What I had to do, Mom! I’m sorry!” shouted Jack.

  Catherine choked back tears. “Don’t be sorry! Don’t be sorry, son. I love you.”

  “I love you too, Mom! I had no choice! I did it for Dad! Nobody was fighting for Dad! For the truth! I did it for Dad!”

  “Talk some sense into him!” shouted Tom from the barricade. “They have to let the men go!”