Reserved For Murder

  Kevin Hopkins

  Reserved For Murder

  First published by Kevin Hopkins 2020

  Copyright © 2020 by Kevin Hopkins

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  First edition

  Editing by Juanita Penner

  Cover art by Jon Stubbington

  This book was professionally typeset on Reedsy

  Find out more at reedsy.com

  To my wife and partner in crime.

  Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  About the Author

  Also by Kevin Hopkins

  CHAPTER ONE

  Sarah Greycrow closed the door to the restaurant, locked it and started on her way home. She was grateful to finally be done her shift. It had felt like a very long night—almost like working a double. It didn’t help that the restaurant had been packed for most of the night and the air conditioning wasn’t working. The AC unit had been acting up for the last month and finally gave its last blast of cool air three nights ago. The owner said he had contacted a repair guy, but no one had come by yet. ‘Maybe tomorrow,’ the owner had told her unconvincingly. Sarah knew that fixing up the restaurant wasn’t his top priority—he liked his drugs more than anything else. But, maybe he’d surprise her. Maybe he’d get it fixed. Chances were good he’d just wait until the cool fall air arrived and people stopped complaining. Doing nothing was always the easiest route to take.

  As she walked, Sarah wiped the sweat from her forehead. Her hair was tied back in a double braid that ran to her waist, which didn’t help soak up any of the sweat. The night air was hot and thick. Even though it was one in the morning, the humidity made it feel like it was 36°C. In other words, a typical summer night. Too hot to sleep if you didn’t have air conditioning at home, which Sarah didn’t.

  At the end of the block, she paused, weighing her options. She decided to take the path down by the river to get home. It was a longer walk, but she was counting on there being a bit of cool air coming off the water. Turning to her right, she cut through the school’s football field at the end of the street and started heading west down Page Boulevard. The houses along the boulevard were on really big lots with a lot of space in between. Definitely some money in this part of town—not like at home. Not like on the reserve. Things there were tough. Not enough jobs, no money for fixing up the infrastructure, small houses needing too many repairs with too many people living in them. Sarah had been so happy when she got her job at the restaurant. She had been looking for something on the reserve, but no one was hiring. One of her friends had landed a job at the gas station, but she was making five dollars an hour less than Sarah. Sure it would be nice to be able to work closer to home, but Sarah had goals and making money was part of the plan. She wanted to get a better place—somewhere off the reserve, so she and her family could finally have good, clean water at home instead of having to use the bottled water the government supplied. There was a limited supply for each house and once it was gone, that was it until the next month. It never lasted an entire month, especially in the summer heat. The thought of being able to turn on a tap and take a drink, whenever she felt like it, kept Sarah going on nights like this one.

  She took another turn and was finally on the path that ran along the shore of the river. It was a bit cooler, but not much. She walked to the river’s edge and took out a bandanna from her back pocket, dipping it in the water, wringing it out and tying it around her neck over her beaded necklace. The cool water helped lower her core temperature, making her more comfortable almost instantly. As she continued her walk, she began to hear the chorus frogs singing to each other in the reeds. She stopped for a minute to listen to their songs, enjoying the slight breeze that rustled the leaves in the tree tops. It felt like rain was on its way—maybe it would finally break the humidity. She continued along the path until she came to the large culvert that ran under the road above, the river continuing its path beside it. It was dark in the culvert. There were no lights at all, and the moonless night wasn’t helping. Sarah pulled out her phone and turned on the flashlight, shining it into the culvert to make sure no animals were using it as a home for the night. Two years ago, her younger brother had ridden his bike through the culvert, without checking first, and had been sprayed by an overprotective mother skunk. It took weeks before he had washed out all of the smell. For the first week, their mom wouldn’t even let him sleep in the house. He had to set up a pup tent in the backyard. Sarah remembered how he had scrubbed his bike with tomato juice, but there was no saving his shoes and shorts. He ended up having to throw those away.

  As Sarah started walking through the culvert, she moved her phone back and forth, checking that all was clear. She saw a lot of graffiti on the walls and the odd can of spray paint on the ground. It looked like some of the artwork was relatively new—at least, she hadn’t noticed it the last time she took this way home. Some of it was actually pretty good—paintings of people and animals. Lots of people’s names and indistinguishable marks. Then there was the racist stuff. There was a lot of hostility in this area, with the reserve being so close. Growing up on the reserve, you were pretty much taught to distrust anyone who wasn’t like you, and it seemed like people living around the reserve were taught the same lesson. Not everyone, of course. She’d had a few white friends over the years, but it wasn’t easy. There was so much animosity in the community. When she first took the job off the reserve, she had been worried about how hard it might be. She hadn’t known how the restaurant patrons would treat her, but for the most part they were really nice. Every now and then, she would get a customer who would make comments behind her back, or not leave a tip because of who she was, but those people were few and far between. She found the worst people were actually her friends back on the reserve. Once she got the job, they started calling her Sarah Whitecrow, saying she was turning her back on her own kind and was becoming ‘one of them.’ It hurt. She had even gotten into a couple of fights with one of the girls, but for the most part, she tried not to dwell on it. She had goals. She had a plan.

  Coming out the other side of the culvert, she met up with the river again. The wind was beginning to blow harder, blocking out the songs of the frogs. The air smelled different, too. She looked up and saw dark clouds moving across the sky. Gr
eat. It was definitely going to rain before she made it home. Picking up the pace, she turned to head into the woods. It was really dark under the trees, but she didn’t mind. She felt safer in the woods than on a city street at night. Nature was where she felt at home. Ever since she was a kid, she would spend a couple of weeks at a time on the land—trapping, hunting and foraging. Her grandmother had been a good teacher of the ‘old ways,’ as she called them.

  She turned off the flashlight on her phone and waited a couple of minutes for her eyes to adjust to the darkness that surrounded her. It may have been quicker walking with the light, but she didn’t like using technology among the trees if she didn’t have to. It almost felt disrespectful. Her eyes began to pick out shapes in the various shades of grey, and soon she continued on her way.

  She could hear the wind picking up even more—the leaves in the canopy were rustling harder, but she couldn’t feel the breeze where she was. The air was still, thick and hot. She was starting to wish she had brought a bottle of water with her. Walking along, she came to the small brook that crossed the path. As she knelt down to remove her bandanna, she noticed some tracks in the soft dirt beside the water. Looked like a raccoon had been here recently to have a drink or to look for his dinner. Sarah soaked her bandanna again, not bothering to wring it out this time, before wrapping it back around her neck. She felt something hit the top of her head. A drop of rain had made it through the trees. Time to get home. She walked a bit to her right, to a point in the brook where it was narrow enough to jump across. She had tried jumping over at different spots over the years, but she was never as successful as here. As she landed, she heard something scurrying off in the bushes beside her. It didn’t sound too big, probably another raccoon. She looked around to see if she could see any tracks. It was almost instinct for her to track anytime she could. This time she had no luck. Whatever it was had made a clean getaway.

  More raindrops were making their way through the tight tree canopy to the plants along the ground. It felt like a good, hard rain. The humidity still hung in the air, but at least the water helped to cool off Sarah’s skin. She took a moment to enjoy the feeling, tilting her head back to let the rain run across her face. It was starting to really come down hard now. A crack of thunder boomed nearby, startling her and reminding her to keep moving.

  The path Sarah was following was definitely not a straight cut through the woods. It had started out as an animal trail, connecting the river with the field on the other side of the woods. Over the years, it became a good way to get from the reserve to town. A lot of people used it to sneak booze back home—the reserve had been dry for the last decade, and not everyone was happy about it. Some people thought they should have the right to drink—those were usually the ones who shouldn’t be drinking to begin with.

  As she got close to the clearing at the end of the woods, a flash of lightning briefly lit up the forest around her. Out of the corner of her eye, something odd in one of the trees to her left caught her attention. She let her eyes readjust to the darkness and cautiously headed in the general direction of what she thought she had seen. She stepped carefully over fallen logs and moved aside low-hanging branches.

  As she got closer, she noticed a smell—a smell she was familiar with from her time trapping on the land. The smell of death. It wasn’t very strong, but it was definitely noticeable. With the heat and humidity of the past couple of days, it could be a day old, two at most. She grabbed her phone out of her pocket and turned on the flashlight. She needed to be able to see properly. Shining the light into one of the trees, she saw something that seemed familiar, yet surprising. Her brain couldn’t seem to make sense of what she was seeing. She moved around slightly to get a better look. Slowly looking up, she saw the body of a young man hanging from a large limb up in the tree, a rope tied around his neck.

  Sarah almost tripped over a root as she jumped back, more surprised than scared at the sight of the body. Taking a breath, she composed herself and stepped forward to get a better look. She was certain that the young man was dead—his skin was a blueish grey colour and he wasn’t moving. And then there was the smell. A dead giveaway. She shone her light up to the young man’s face, trying to see if she recognized him, but his long, black hair was hanging down, blocking his features. She looked around on the ground and found a branch that had fallen off of a neighbouring tree, just long enough to reach up to his head. Holding the phone in one hand to shine the light, she tried to gently move the hair out of his face with the stick, making sure not to disturb the body. It wasn’t easy balancing the seven-foot long branch with one hand. After several failed attempts, she finally got the end of the stick into position, gingerly moving his long, wet hair out of the way. His mouth was slightly open as though he had gasped for one last breath before he crossed over to the spirit world, eyes bulging as they had watched the darkness take over. Even in its current state, Sarah knew she had seen that face before. Jonny Two Bears. He was a year younger than Sarah, in the same grade as her brother. She hadn’t known him well, but she knew who he was. He was a hoop dancer with the Bear Clan. He was good. And too young to have crossed over.

  Collecting herself, Sarah knew she needed to get help. She checked her phone but there was no service here—either because of the trees or the storm. She needed to get out of the woods so she could phone the band police. She tossed the branch aside and started back along the trail towards home, keeping the flashlight on and trained to the ground, so she could make up time. As she walked, her thoughts kept going to Jonny. He was one of those people who always seemed to be in good spirits. A real joker. A lover of life. He had gone hunting with her brother a few times and he always seemed to love being on the land. He wasn’t interested in moving to the city or anything. He liked the freedom that the old ways gave him. He just didn’t seem like the type to take his own life. But maybe something had been going on with him that she didn’t know about. She would ask her brother. Unfortunately, suicides were not uncommon in the community. Times were hard and most kids couldn’t see far enough into the future to realize that things could improve. A kid’s world is the here and now, not five years from next Tuesday.

  Sarah emerged from the edge of the woods and checked her phone again. She had service. There was no 911 for the band police. 911 would put you in touch with the city police. Local boy, local police, she thought. She was worried the city cops would just brush it off as another dead kid from the reserve and not give him the respect he deserved. She went into her phone contacts and found the number for the band office, pressing the button to dial. As it rang, she continued walking towards her house, getting soaked by the cool summer rain. Finally, the call was answered by an automated message. She knew no one would be answering the phones at this time of the morning. She listened to the message and when prompted, pushed three to be put through to the police station. A couple more rings and finally a voice answered her call.

  ‘Hi, this is Sarah, Sarah Greycrow. I found a body in the woods.’

  CHAPTER TWO

  Constable Grant was woken up by the phone ringing on the bedside table. At least, he assumed he was woken up. He never really slept well in the room the band office provided him—definitely not the first night he was there. The room was small. The bed was strangely lumpy. And it was almost too quiet. By his last night he was usually sleeping better, but that was more from sheer exhaustion than from being comfortable. He fumbled around in the dark, switched on the lamp beside the bed and answered the phone.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Constable Grant? It’s Barry. Sorry for waking you.’

  ‘No problem. What time is it anyway?’

  ‘About one forty-five. We just got a call. Do you know Sarah Greycrow?’

  ‘Um, yeah. She comes to the drop-in. Is she okay?’

  ‘Yeah, she’s fine. But, she found a body.’

  ‘What?’ Grant was wide awake now. ‘Where?’

  ‘In the woods, this side of the old culvert. Are you
able to meet up with her so she can show you where it is? I gotta stay here and man the phones, and Pete’s not available—he’s still out turkey hunting. Won’t be back until after lunch sometime.’

  ‘Sure. No problem. Where can I meet her?’

  ‘I asked her to head towards your place. Figured it would be easiest.’

  ‘Pretty presumptuous of you, no?’ Grant commented, getting out of bed.

  ‘I figured you’d do it. Just the type of guy you are. Thanks, eh? I owe you one.’

  ‘I’ll hold you to that. You can buy me a bannock at the powwow later.’

  ‘Deal. Let me know how it goes.’

  ‘Will do.’ Grant hung up the phone and went into the bathroom to splash some water on his face. Looking in the mirror, he noticed that his hair was plastered to his forehead. He must have been sweating a lot—the room didn’t have very good air conditioning. As he was finishing up, there was a knock on his door. ‘One second,’ he called out, grabbing a shirt from his drawer. He opened the door, still pulling the shirt over his head.

  Sarah stood on the porch, soaked through. ‘Morning. Lovely night, eh?’

  ‘Sarah, come in and get out of the rain for a minute,’ Grant said, stepping out of the way to let Sarah in. He looked out the door and saw the heavy rain bouncing off the asphalt. ‘Not looking forward to going out in that,’ he thought as a flash of lightning lit up the parking lot. ‘Did you want some tea or anything?’

  ‘No, I’m good. Thanks,’ Sarah said, water dripping off of her onto the carpeted entranceway. ‘Sorry ‘bout your floor,’ she added, looking down.

  ‘No worries. It’s not really mine. I’m just borrowing it,’ Grant said, walking to the bathroom to grab a towel. ‘So, what’s going on? You found a body?’

  ‘Thanks,’ Sarah said, taking the towel and trying to squeeze the water from her braids. ‘Yeah. I was cutting through the woods on my way home from work. Jonny Two Bears hung himself.’