LITMIR.BIZ

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but that covers a multitude of sins, doesn’t it?”

      “I’ve certainly heard that the missions were very hard on a lot of men.” Green steered her gently back. “So it was Daniel Oliver, not an officer, who recommended him?”

      “Put his name forward, yes. Oh, don’t get me wrong. They all supported it. His battalion commander, company commander, and this Major Hamm. Captain Hamm back then and probably General by now. He was that kind of soldier.”

      “What did Ian say about him?”

      “That he was a bit of a slave driver. But then they have to be, don’t they? They had their orders too. Still, with our Ian, that wasn’t the way to handle him. Tell him why he should do something, point out the good in it, trust him to give it his all, and he will. Always been like that, which was something his dad had trouble seeing. This sergeant who went on medical leave, he was much more Ian’s type of leader. I think it was hard on all the boys when he left. But Danny stepped in and did the best he could.”

      Green nodded slowly. “They were all just boys, weren’t they? Thousands of miles from home.”

      He heard her suck in her breath and expel it in a long,sigh. “And it wasn’t like in a war, where the soldiers all come back home as heroes who’d defended their country. No one knew what our lads had been through or what they’d seen. Why they couldn’t stand the smell of a barbeque or a trip to the dump. Why they couldn’t sleep at night or take a walk through the orchard without their gun.” She gripped the card and struggled to get it back into the envelope before abandoning the effort. “That damn gun... I was his mother. I should have known.”

      He felt sorry for her, hovering over the abyss of her loss. He hated to tip the balance, but sensed if ever there was a time for truth, this was it. “Should have known what, Mrs. MacDonald?”

      She shook her head. “He didn’t take the dogs that day. The only time he left them behind.”

      He waited. In the silence, the distant bark of a dog penetrated the windowpane. She took a deep, shuddering breath. “His father calls it a hunting accident. He has to. To Angus, our boy is a decorated soldier and a tribute to his country. To face the truth is to dishonour his memory. Our boy was a hero. Nothing takes that away.”

      Still he waited. Barely breathing.

      “But he was also afraid, and tormented and confused. In the end, he took his damn hunting rifle, left his dogs behind because he didn’t want them to see, and he went down to the river marsh at the bottom of the farm. Where he propped his rifle against a tree and shot himself.”

      TWELVE

      The casualties of peacekeeping,” McGrath said. “After Romeo Dallaire, the army’s worst kept secret.”

      They were having a late lunch at a roadside diner outside Antigonish. Mrs. MacDonald had offered to make them lunch, but sensing that their continued presence there was like salt in her wounds, Green had declined. Now they were hunched over greasy fish and chips. Green doused his with more ketchup as he considered McGrath’s words.

      General Romeo Dallaire was the army’s highest profile example of the post-traumatic stress the country’s soldiers often endured after trying to maintain peace in some of the most violent and tribal corners of the world. Clearly, Ian himself had struggled with memories and fears upon his return, and on that fateful morning in September 1995, he had finally ceded defeat. Despite being recognized as a hero by his superiors and his government, he was just a boy who had faced more than he could bear.

      Perhaps. And yet... Green wrestled to make this new piece of the puzzle fit in with the subsequent murders. Daniel Oliver had been Ian’s section commander in the latter part of their rotation, and he had recommended Ian for a medal of bravery — a relative rarity in the peacekeeping ranks, where combat heroism was less valued than mediation skills. His platoon commander, Captain Hamm, had supported the recommendation, but if his tepid letter of condolence was any indication, he did not share Oliver’s enthusiasm for Ian’s accomplishment.

      “Somehow, all these things connect to Yugoslavia,” Green said eventually. “Ian’s suicide, Oliver’s murder and Patricia’s murder. I think something happened over there...”

      “Yeah, well, with Norrich handling that part of the investigation...” She paused, grimacing as she picked oily chunks of batter off her fish. “I suppose I could have a go at the West Nova Scotia Reserve Regiment myself. See if anyone knows anything.”

      “That won’t help. We need to find out who served with them in Yugoslavia and interview every last one of them.” He reached into his pocket and slid the photo Mrs. MacDonald had given him across the table towards her. “These are some of the guys in their unit. We should start by ID ing them. I have a contact in army personnel in Ottawa. I’ll get one of my men in Ottawa to follow up.”

      McGrath shoved aside her half-eaten fish and picked up the photo. She angled it to catch the light and studied it closely. A faint frown played across her features.

      Green’s interest quickened. “What?”

      She shook her head and peered more closely. Her frown deepened. Then she tapped at one of the men in the photo. He was posed behind the others, leaning against the hood of an army truck. His helmet cast much of his face in shadow.

      “This man. I can’t be sure, but I think...” She looked up at him, her eyes widened with excitement. “Mike, I think he might have been the other man in the bar the night Oliver was killed. The man talking to the killer beforehand.”

      “You mean the guy who gave you the fake ID ? And claimed he had no idea who the killer was?”

      “The very one. And if you believe that, I’ve got a schooner full of flying codfish to sell you!”

      * * *

      The minute they arrived back at the Halifax Police Station, Green put in a call to Gibbs. The young detective sounded as if he were fairly bursting with news.

      “We’ve uncovered another possible military connection, sir! At least, Sue—Detective Peters has. At the Voyageur Bus Station. Th-th...” He took a deep breath as if to slow himself, and Green could almost see his Adam’s apple bobbing. “This morning she took the photos of Patricia Ross and her purse to the bus station to see if anyone remembered her buying a ticket there. And... it took two shifts, but you know Sue, she sticks to things, and on the afternoon shift she found a floor cleaner who remembered Patricia. Said she wore a hole in his floor pacing up and down, going outside every ten minutes for a smoke while she waited for the bus. And guess where she caught the bus to?”

      Green’s pulse leaped. “Petawawa.”

      There was abrupt silence on the phone, as if Gibbs had even stopped breathing. “How did you know?”

      “You said there was a military connection. There aren’t too many Canadian Forces bases within bussing distance to Ottawa. And Petawawa is home to a large infantry regiment that has gone on numerous peacekeeping missions.” Sensing Gibbs’s disappointment, Green reined in his racing thoughts. “What day did she go?”

      “M-monday the 17th. Almost a week after she arrived.”

      And almost a week before she died, Green thought. More and more he was convinced she’d been on the trail of someone, and had stirred up a hornet’s nest along the way.“Excellent work, Bob,” he said. “Once we know Daniel Oliver’s military associates, maybe we’ll be able to determine who she went to see. Anything else come up today?”

      “That reporter from the Sun called, sir. Frank Corelli. His witness agreed to a meet. I wanted to wait to check in with you,but I figured it was more important to get her information, so we set it up for noon today over at Confederation Park. It’s a busy enough place, especially at lunch hour, that I figured our surveillance teams wouldn’t be obvious. Staff Sergeant Larocque gave me half a dozen patrol officers to cover it, and I figured we’d have no trouble picking her up.”

      “After

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