Free About That Night by Norah McClintock

reappear thirty or more minutes later, walking more slowly now, carrying the stretcher between them, one in front, the other behind, and something lumpish on the stretcher between them. Jordie holds her breath as they stumble up the slope onto the trail and then carry their burden up the path. More police officers appear out of the snow. So does the man with the long coat. They all go up the hill, leaving Jordie in the silence of the falling snow. She waits until everyone vanishes and then she heads in the opposite direction, away from the Maughams’ house, back down the path the way she came, barely feeling her feet the whole way, until she is home.

Eleven
    A t six o’clock that night, just as Mrs. Cross is about to put a chicken pot pie and green salad on the table and pull some biscuits from the oven, someone rings the doorbell. Mr. Cross, seated in the living room and therefore closest to the door, heaves himself to his feet and goes to answer. Deep, masculine voices can be heard. Mr. Cross calls his elder daughter to the door. Mrs. Cross, curious, follows her. Carly hovers in the doorway between the kitchen and the front hall.
    â€œJordie, you remember Sergeant Tritt,” Mr. Cross says.
    Behind Jordie, Mrs. Cross says, “Hello, Neil. What brings you here on a night like this?”
    Art Cross and Neil Tritt are both members of the local curling club. They play against each other regularly and are so evenly matched that it’s anyone’s guess who will come out on top on any given night.
    â€œHe wants to talk to Jordie about Derek,” Mr. Cross says.
    â€œI’d like you to come down to the police station, Jordie,” Tritt explains. “You can bring your dad with you if you’d like.”
    â€œWhy?” Mrs. Cross demands. Normally, she is quiet and deferential with authority figures. But when her daughters are involved, her lamblike nature vanishes and she takes on the ferocity of a mama lion. “What’s going on, Neil? What has she done?”
    â€œWe just need to ask her a few questions, Celia,” Tritt says.
    Jordie reaches for her coat on the hook by the door.
    â€œJordie, what’s this all about?” her mother asks.
    â€œIt’s Derek,” she says. “They found him.”
    â€œFound him?”
    Tritt glances at Mr. Cross. “I can drive you both, or you can come in your own car.”
    â€œWe’ll follow you.” Mr. Cross reaches for his coat.
    â€œIt’s okay, Dad,” Jordie says. “You don’t have to come with me. Why don’t you stay and have supper?”
    But he is buttoning his coat. Jordie wishes he would stay put, but she knows he won’t. She can’t blame him. She supposes that if she had a daughter and her daughter were wanted for questioning by the police, she would insist on staying with her.
    â€œJordie?”
    â€œIt’s okay, Mom.”
    â€œCall me, Art,” Mrs. Cross says. “Let me know what’s happening.”
    Jordie and her father follow Tritt out into the night. Tritt gets into his car, which is parked at the curb, and waits, engine idling, while Jordie and her father climb into their car. Her father backs out of the driveway and heads to the business district of town. Tritt follows. On the way, Mr. Cross questions his daughter.
    â€œDo you know why they want to talk to you?”
    â€œAbout Derek.”
    â€œBut why you?”
    Jordie gives her father a look and shakes her head.
    â€œWell, I knew him pretty well, Dad. He was at our house before he disappeared. And—” Here she hesitates. “I guess you could say I’m sort of responsible for him being found.”
    â€œOh?” Her father, who is concentrating on the road because the snow is still falling hard, steals a glance at her.
    â€œI was out for a walk today, and I saw something. It turned out it was Derek’s scarf. The police took it from there.”
    â€œSo when they