An Imperfect Librarian - Elizabeth Murphy [79]
“What about Norah?”
“She’s missing. There’s a search party out around the Cape Spear area where she lives. If you ask me, I’d say she’s hiding out somewhere. Would you like to come for–”
I haven’t driven over the road to Cliffhead in months. The mounds of snow are piled high. In open areas, drifts are blowing over the tops of the orange snow fences. Except for a few skidoos, SUVs and a couple of pickup trucks, I’m the only one on the road. The truck in front of me is moving so slowly you’d think it was carrying a load of gravel, not a load of firewood. They should give out tickets to people who drive at that speed. When we arrive at the hill, the driver shifts gears and the truck goes even more slowly. As soon as I get a clear stretch of road, I push the gas pedal to the floor to pass him. The driver makes one of those friendly twitches of the head as if to say give ’er. I speed on past, though not for long. He slows down to stare while I’m pulled over on the side of the road. The policeman saunters up cautiously to my car and taps on the window. “Driver’s license, please.”
“Do you think we could do this quickly? I’m in a hurry.”
“You’ve had enough doing things in a hurry for one day. I had you clocked at thirty kilometres over the speed limit.”
“I’m on my way to join the search party for Norah Myrick at Cliffhead.”
“You’re not from here, are you?” he says.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“If you were from here, you’d know you should hand over your license, say thank you, officer, and hope that I don’t take you into headquarters.”
“I can’t go to headquarters. I have to join the party. She’s missing. You must have heard about it. You’re a police officer.”
“Thanks for the reminder, Mr. Brunette. Your party will have to wait. Stay there while I go to the car and plug this information into the database.”
“You don’t need to check with it in the database. I have an accent and drove over the speed limit. That doesn’t mean I’m a criminal.”
“Calm down there, mister. This is a routine check.”
Sixteen and a half minutes. I could have been to Cliffhead in that time. “I guess your computer was slow today.”
He doesn’t react. He simply pauses and glares at me. “In the future, watch your driving, and your attitude, Mr. Brunette,” he says. He saunters back to his car. I shove the speeding ticket in the glove compartment. He tailgates me until I turn off onto Norah’s private road. Henry told me I should get winter tires. They wouldn’t have been any use on this road. The only thing that would get through is a snowmobile or a plough. When I can’t go forward anymore, I put the car in reverse. The tires spin. The back of the car starts to slide towards the ditch on the side of the road.
I turn off the engine, search for my phone then realize I left it in the office. The windshield fogs up. I open the window. A cold draft of air blows inside. I open the door and step out in my office shoes, without mitts or a scarf. I’ve done the walk many times alone or with her in fifteen minutes. Now, it takes twice as long and that much more energy. I run to keep warm. I hop over drifts. If she’s there, I’ll go inside and warm up by the woodstove.
She’s not there. The entrance is smothered in snow. There are no footprints. I check around the barn. The padlock is tight on the door. There’s no sign of any cars. I call the dogs. Three crows sitting on a wire watch me. I follow my prints back to the car, climb inside and turn the heater on high. It makes a squeaking sound then farts a burning rubber smell. I climb out, slam the door shut, leave it unlocked and hope someone steals it.
Once I reach the main road, I stick out my thumb. The police car that stopped me earlier drives past. I turn to face the opposite direction then raise my collar up over my neck. His car disappears over a hill. I should have flagged him down. There’s no crime in being stuck in the snow with or without an accent. As I’m waving to the police car that’s already too far away, a horn blows behind me. I turn around to face a rust-trimmed pickup truck