Doris surveyed her for a moment, clearly calculating.“I will.This call could potentially send up a red flag.If you do end up going in there, I don’twant to risk anyone recognizing your voice.Mine’s much deeper.All right.Here we go.”Doris glanced back and forth at the number as the rotary whirred seven times.She waited, eyes on the desk in front of her.They flashed up to Emily.
“Yes, good morning, ma’am.I wonder if the warden might be available, please.”Doris held Emily’s eager gaze as the woman responded.“Well, when will she be in?…ah…yes…all right.No.Well, I wonder then ifyoucan comment on some allegations of sub-par living conditions at your institution.I have heard…I…yes…no…” It wasn’t going well, but Doris seemed unfazed.“Well, if the warden…excuse me?I don’t see how my name is—” She made a regretful face.“Yes, I work for a magazine,” she said eventually.If they asked outright, she couldn’t lie.“Hello?Ma’am?”She shook her head and set the receiver back down.
“She hung up?”Emily asked, biting her lip.
“She hung up.”
“So what does that say?”
Doris licked her lips, and Emily saw that despite her cool demeanour, pink patches had risen in her cheeks, and there was a shine in her eyes that Emily recognized.She’d seen it before, when Doris proposed the battered women article last fall.“I’ve been at this a long time, and my instinct says there’s something here.”
Emily nodded.Doris gestured for her notes, and she handed them over.Her boss re-read the legislation, eyes narrowing, and then the inmate’s note once again.She shook her head.
“We don’t have any other way to validate this, Doris,” Emily said.
Doris pressed her tongue into the side of her cheek.“No.I spent a while on the weekend sorting through options, but there aren’t many.That madam you talked to said women have tried to report the conditions to police, correct?”
“Yes.But who’s going to listen to a bunch of prostitutes and delinquents?”Emily asked boldly.
“Exactly.”
There was a beat of silence between them as Doris sat down in her oversized executive chair.Emily decided that now was her moment.
“I want to do this, Doris.”She took a seat across the desk in a chair that was usually occupied by one of the staff writers—the women with windows in their offices and their own names in the byline.
“I know you do.I would, too, to tell you the truth.In another season of my life, before marriage and children, I might have.”A ghost of a smile haunted Doris’s dark lips.“If it’s as bad as we think it is, this is an enormous scoop: abuse of power, abuse ofwomen—and right on the heels of our other exposé—government culpability, and probably corruption somewhere along the line.From a journalism perspective, it’s a deep scoop.And from a women’s issues perspective, well…it’s critical.”She stared at Emily for several long moments, then seemed to come to a decision.“You’ll need to be as careful as you can be.”Emily’s heart surged.“Do not put yourself in harm’s way for the sake of this story, Emily.Get in, get what you need, then lie low until your release.”
With a rush, Emily nodded.“Yes, ma’am.”
“But you’re going to need your father’s help with this.Speak to him tonight.Let me know what he says, and we’ll go from there.”She paused.“I’m still not entirely comfortable with it, but you seem determined, it’s a great story, and you’re a bit uniquely positioned to be able to do it.”
Emily swelled with excitement and pride and a touch of nerves.“Thank you, Doris.”
A car horn blared from four floors below on University Avenue, where traffic hummed through a cloud of grey exhaust all hours of the day.Phones rang in the offices down the hall, as they did in hundreds of other offices and homes around the city.They were everyday sounds that carried on no matter what was happening.A light blanket of normalcy shrouding the darkness in every corner of every neighbourhood.Emily wondered what might be happening to the inmates at the Mercer prison right at that very moment.
No one knew.
But if Emily could pull this off, she would make sure they did.
CHAPTER 8
RACHEL
Huron County, Ontario—May, 1996
After their rookies Stevens and Fisher arrive at the Millgate Cemetery, Green heads back to HQ.Rachel assigns Fisher to guard the body and interview Jake Easton for a full statement, then brings Stevens with her to the cemetery office.Fisher is a young kid, fresh out of the academy, and isn’t too pleased with being told what to do by a woman detective.But he’s a misogynist with a revolting sense of humour who could use a little menial work to knock his ego down a few pegs.
Stevens, on the other hand, is the nephew of Green’s predecessor and Rachel’s mentor, Tom Stevens, and she hasn’t quite gotten the measure of him yet.He’s been shadowing her for the past few weeks, but he’s been quiet, watching her closely.He’s the complete opposite of Fisher, and Rachel hopes he’s got what it takes.Some kids want to be cops because their parents or other family members were, but the reality of the work hits with a hard landing and they end up quitting, or pivoting to security services.As glamorous as being a detective might appear from the outside, a huge chunk of police work involves waiting around for something to happen, or poring over documents searching for a needle in a haystack.Especially in a rural detachment.
Julie went back to the office a few minutes ago, so Rachel knocks, waits until the door opens.
“Hey, Julie.”Rachel scales the small steps.“This is Stevens, my rookie.He’s going to assist with the records search.”
“Oh, uh, hi,” Julie says, her face turning pink as she holds the door open for them.“Just uh…” She’s clearly flustered at having her little space invaded.But Rachel knows that most people get that way around cops, and it usually indicates innocence.It’s the complacency or defensiveness you’ve got to watch out for.
The cemetery office is hardly bigger than a toll booth, but with less air circulation.It certainly isn’t any larger than the covered porch of her late grandmother’s house on Lake Huron—now Rachel’s home—where they’d played Go Fish on summer afternoons.Rachel would munch arrowroot cookies, watching the lines that formed around Dora’s mouth when she was deliberating her next move.
“It’s a bit tight,” Julie says, “but maybe just wait there a sec, and I’ll pull the files.They’re back here.”She gestures to what Rachel assumes is a storage closet, beside which stands Reverend Holland.
