Graham nodded.
“Then he began clashing with his editors. About a year ago he’d had enough and decided to try making a living freelancing.”
“How did that go?”
“It was rough. Anita was worried. He’d quit a wellpaying job with benefits.”
“So there was stress in the home?”
“Some. Sure, over the money and for Ray quitting
World Press.”
“So why not try to find another news job?” “I think Ray always felt he was close to a big story, or a book deal. Until then, he was always borrowing money from us to pay the bills, always struggling, worrying about Anita and the kids. About six months ago, he took out extra life insurance so Anita and the kids would be okay, if anything happened to him.” “Really? How much?”
“I think he said it was two hundred and fifty thousand.”
“Means more premiums. How did he pay for this trip?” “I loaned him the money for this trip. He told me they really needed to get away. He found a cheap package deal. I figured he was going to pay me back with the money he’d get for some travel features, which usually happened. It just took time.”
Graham didn’t voice his view that Ray came across as something of a contradiction. Here was a guy who was not a risk taker but had taken a gamble leaving his job. Ray’s father must’ve picked up on what Graham was thinking.
“Is there something you’re not telling me, Cor poral?”
“I’m just trying to figure things out.”
“You said it appears to be an accident, at this stage.
Is there something you’re not telling me?”
“I’ve told you all we know. We just need to locate
Ray.”
“Corporal, it’s hard to explain a life here. My son loved his family. For him, reporting was a quasireligious cause. He worked hard on his articles, they were very good. In fact, I’d like his laptop returned to me as soon as possible. It would mean a great deal to me to read what he’d been working on.”
“Laptop? I don’t think we found a laptop.” Graham flipped through the inventory sheets from the crime scene guys.
“He never went anywhere without it.”
“It’s possible we have it in an evidence locker, or the lab is processing it.”
“He had it with him when I took them to the airport for this trip.”
“I’ll look into it.”
Graham was certain no laptop was found anywhere with the Tarvers and spent the rest of the night on the phone to the lab and the guys in Banff getting them to search for it.
In the morning, Graham rose early and drove Jack son Tarver two hours west to Banff, then deep into the
Faust region to the site. Jackson Tarver tossed roses into the river where his grandchildren, daughter-in-law and, most likely, his son had died.
That afternoon, Graham accompanied him to the airport and badged his way through to the gate where they watched three casket-shaped containers roll along the luggage conveyor and into the cargo hold of Tarver’s plane.
Before he boarded, Tarver took Graham’s hand and shook it.
“I heard what you did, how you risked your life trying to save Emily. Thank you.”
“No thanks necessary.”
“I hope you’ll find my son, so that he can come home with his family.” Tarver’s grip was like that of a man fighting to keep from breaking into pieces.
“Please.”
“I’ll do my best.”
Graham stayed at the window watching Tarver’s jet roll slowly from the terminal, turbines whining, running lights strobing, until his cell phone rang.
“Graham, it’s Fitzwald.”
“Fitz, did you find the laptop?”
“No laptop, but I did find something you should see.” Twenty minutes later, Graham was at Fitzwald’s desk looking at a sneaker.
“We figure it belongs to Ray Tarver.”
Graham was puzzled; he’d seen this sneaker and its mate before.
“I don’t get it, Fitz, I’ve seen the shoes. They were in the tent.”
“And this was in the left shoe.”
Fitzwald tossed a small, slim leather-bound note book on the desk before him.
“What do you make of it, Dan?”
Graham fanned the pages filled with notes, handwrit ten in ink. They were cryptic: something about an SS
Age, another, see B. Walker. Scores of notations just before the last entry: Meet ‘x’ and ‘y’ verify link to Blue
Rose Creek.
“Hard to say if it’s important.”
“It must mean something because it was hidden under the foot cushion. He valued this more than his passport.”
11
Tokyo, Japan
Central Tokyo’s skyline glittered against the night sky. Setsuko Uchida gazed upon it from the balcony of her fortieth-floor apartment in Roppongi Hills, but her thoughts lingered on her vacation in the Rockies. Had she really traveled halfway around the world? She sighed, then resumed unpacking in her bedroom, happy to be home. Tomorrow she would have lunch with her daughter, Miki, near the Imperial Gardens and tell her about the magnificent mountains.
With great care, she retrieved the gift box from her suitcase and slowly unwrapped the tissue paper until a small polar bear, and a second, tinier bear, hand-carved in jade, emerged. A mother and her cub. She knew Miki would love them. The two women had grown closer since Setsuko’s husband had passed away.
Toshiro.
He smiled from the gold-framed photo on her nightstand. He’d been a senior official at the Ministry of
Justice and was a kind man. He died of lung complica tions which had tormented him years after his exposure to the sarin gas attack on the subway system by the Aum
Shinrikyo cult.
Losing her husband had almost destroyed Setsuko, who’d been an economics professor at the University of Tokyo. Eventually, she took early retirement then moved from their home in Chiba to Central Tokyo to be nearer to their daughter, Miki.
Miki was angered by her father’s death and had with drawn from everyone, burying herself in her job.
Setsuko had refused to accept Miki’s isolation, never letting her be alone for too long, always calling or visiting. In time, Miki opened her heart and allowed
Setsuko back into her life, allowed her to be her mother again.
This happened because Setsuko’s friends, Mayumi and Yukiko, had always encouraged Setsuko not to give up on Miki. She loved them for it. She also loved them for insisting she join them on their recent adventure to the wilds of Canada, a place Setsuko’s husband had dreamed of visiting.
It was a wonderful trip, but it was good to be home. Setsuko took a break from unpacking.
She went to her desk with her memory cards, switched on her computer and began viewing her travel photographs.
Here they were-the girls-on a mountaintop; in a forest; next to a river; here they were on the Icefields
Parkway. Here were elk on the golf course in Banff. A man with a cowboy hat. Setsuko clicked through dozens of images, smiling and giggling, until she stopped at one.
Her smile melted.
Setsuko had taken this one of Mayumi and Yukiko in cowboy hats, laughing, seated at their table in the logcabin restaurant outside Banff. It was during the last days of their trip.
Something about the image niggled at her. Something familiar.
Staring at it, she tried to remember.
The people in the background.
She returned to her bags, fished around in the deep side pockets where she’d shoved magazines, maps and newspapers, her fingers probing until she found the copy of the Calgary Herald the attendants had offered on the plane.
She remembered glancing at it before dozing off during the flight to Vancouver where they’d caught the return flight to Japan.
She unfolded it at her desk.
There was the headline, U.S. FAMILY DIES IN
MOUNTAIN ACCIDENT, and pictures of Ray and
Anita Tarver and their two small children, Tommy and
Emily. A beautiful family, Setsuko thought, reading the article.