Last lullaby

  Copyright © 2017, Alice Walsh

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission from the publisher, or, in the case of photocopying or other reprographic copying, permission from Access Copyright, 1 Yonge Street, Suite 1900, Toronto, Ontario M5E 1E5.

  Vagrant Press is an imprint of Nimbus Publishing Limited

  3731 Mackintosh St, Halifax, NS B3K 5A5

  (902) 455-4286 nimbus.ca

  Printed and bound in Canada

  NB1245

  This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

  Walsh, Alice (E. Alice), author

  Last lullaby / Alice Walsh.

  Issued in print and electronic formats.

  ISBN 978-1-77108-508-3 (softcover).—ISBN 978-1-77108-509-0

  (HTML)

  I. Title.

  PS8595.A5847L37 2017C813’.54C2017-904100-2

  C2017-904099-5

  Nimbus Publishing acknowledges the financial support for its publishing activities from the Government of Canada, the Canada Council for the Arts, and from the Province of Nova Scotia. We are pleased to work in partnership with the Province of Nova Scotia to develop and promote our creative industries for the benefit of all Nova Scotians.

  For my beautiful niece, Breanna

  Prologue

  Lauren kept her head down as she cut through the crowd surrounding the courthouse. Although it was only a preliminary hearing, reporters, spectators, cameramen, and photographers had been waiting for hours. By now, most people had heard about the bizarre case and were eager to watch it play out in court. It had been high-profile from the beginning, but once the truth came to light a media circus was unleashed. Lauren was constantly being pursued by hungry reporters. She sometimes caught glimpses of herself on the nightly news where the anchor would refer to her as “one of the key players in the case,” or “the lawyer who cracked the case wide open.” She’d been invited to appear on Charlie Rose, 20/20, Fox News, and a long list of other shows. For a while, she had basked in the glory, but now all she wanted was for her life to return to normal. I’m glad this is finally coming to an end, she thought as she quickened her pace.

  Journalists had come not only from around the province, but across Canada and the States. As she neared the courthouse, Lauren looked around at the excited faces: a reporter from CNN was interviewing a local couple. Another from CBC stood on the sidewalk talking into a microphone. “The unexpected twist in this case is so incredible you couldn’t make it up,” she heard him say as she strode past.

  Lauren shook her head. Three months ago, most people had never heard of Paddy’s Arm, Newfoundland. Now, it was in the news daily, the story splashed across every major newspaper in the country. Zealous reporters in pursuit of details interviewed anyone who would talk to them. They stalked university students, even schoolchildren.

  Lauren had almost made it to the courthouse steps when someone shouted: “There’s Ms. LaVallee now.” As TV cameras swung in her direction, she involuntary took a step backward.

  “Ms. LaVallee,” a reporter from CBC called, “what do you think about this crime being compared to the Caylee Anthony case?”

  Before Lauren had a chance to respond, another reporter thrust a microphone in her face: “What would you like to see happen now?”

  “I want justice to prevail,” Lauren answered, truthfully. “Two people are dead, one of them an innocent child.”

  Chapter 1

  Three months earlier

  Lauren stifled a yawn as Olivia Fillmore read her paper to the class. She snuck a glance at her watch. Twenty more minutes and we can all go home.

  “For a felony such as this, the perpetrator would probably benefit from community service,” Olivia said, concluding her paper.

  “Indictable offence,” Lauren corrected. Nearly a month into the term and some students still didn’t know an indictment from a summary offence. Why had she let herself get talked into teaching another term? She was a lawyer, for heaven’s sake, not a professor. Lauren cast a glance around the classroom. “You guys watch too many American cop shows,” she continued. “‘Felonies’ and ‘misdemeanours’ are American terminology. In Canada we have indictable and summary offences.” She looked at Rebecca Taylor, an RCMP officer and one of her brightest students. “Right, Constable Taylor?”

  Rebecca pushed dark bangs away from her eyes. Although she was in her late twenties, and married with a child, she looked younger than some of the other students. “Right,” she said. “And if this were the States, the crime Olivia described would be a misdemeanour not a felony.”

  “Thank you, Constable Taylor, for pointing that out.” Lauren reached for a textbook on her desk and turned to her students. “For Monday, read up to chapter 12 in your Canadian Criminal Justice.”

  “The chapter on attorney-client privilege?” asked Devon Saunders.

  Lauren stared at him a long moment. Had she heard a sneer in his voice? “Yes, that chapter,” she snapped. “And don’t just read it, study it.” She stood, signalling that class was dismissed.

  Am I being paranoid? Lauren wondered as she watched her students file out of the room. Devon’s remark was innocent enough. Had she read too much into it? Was it her guilty conscience? Let it go, she chided herself. She couldn’t let the past hold her back.

  Long after her students had left the classroom, Lauren stood by the tall windows that overlooked Paddy’s Arm. Coming here was the right decision, she told herself as she took in a gigantic iceberg that loomed in the distance. A fishing boat was making its way across the harbour. It had been a mild winter so far, and the sea had not frozen over as it had in past years. Had it been only four years since she arrived here? Four years since she’d fled Quebec in disgrace, her law license suspended, her reputation in tatters? The mere memory of it still made Lauren shrivel in shame. To complicate things further, she had been three months’ pregnant.

  Moving away from the window, Lauren started down the hallway toward the English department. Emma Buckle, the acting chair, had left two messages on her voice mail and Lauren hadn’t had a chance to return them.

  The outer office was empty, the secretary away from her desk. Through the partially open door, Lauren saw Emma grading papers. She glanced up when Lauren knocked. “Come on in, girl,” she called.

  Lauren smiled. Emma often called students and co-workers “girl” or “my son.” She had a pronounced Newfoundland accent that she sometimes exaggerated.

  “I’m glad I caught you,” Lauren said, taking a chair across from Emma’s desk.

  “A nice surprise, this is,” Emma said, “but why the long face?”

  Lauren laughed. “Am I that obvious?” She shook her head. “I should never have let Frances talk me into staying another term.”

  Emma raised an eyebrow. “Then why did you?”

  “It’ll be fun,” Lauren said, mimicking Dr. Frances Turple’s gravelly voice. “Mature students mostly—RCMP officers, social workers, probation officers—people already settled in careers. It’s not like dealing with freshmen straight from high school.”

  Emma smiled. “I take it that’s not how it turned out.”

  “Not by a long shot.” Lauren could count the mature students in her class on one hand: An RCMP officer, a high school teacher who wanted to join the police force, and a couple of middle-aged housewives with aspirations of becoming the next J. B. Fletche
r.

  “Frances told me the instructor they hired bailed at the last minute,” Emma said.

  “Yes, he left her in a bind, all right. Frances was in a panic. I felt obligated to step in. I owe her big time.”

  “Go on, girl,” Emma said. “You don’t owe her anything.”

  “Well, she did hire me when I was down on my luck. At the time, I was so desperate I would have taken any job.” Lauren shook her head. “I don’t know how I survived.”

  “You turned things around, forged a new life for yourself. We’re all proud of you, sure.”

  “Since my law license was reinstated, things have gotten better,” Lauren agreed. “I love my job at Beck Hayes. Bailey is happy. Still, I feel indebted to Frances. It was teaching that initially allowed me to stay here.”

  “Don’t be down on yourself,” Emma said. “The department was lucky to get you.”

  “Well, Frances could have had her pick.” It was well known that the college got more applicants than it could handle. Lauren gestured toward the window, where long wharves and fish stages jutted into the bay. “The scenery alone is enough to entice most people. And our town is growing,” she added.

  “True,” Emma said. “I saw an article in Urban News that listed Paddy’s Arm as one of the fastest growing towns in Canada. Imagine now.”

  Lauren smiled. In the four years she’d been here, she’d watched the population nearly double. Overnight, it seemed, new streets were put in and high-rise apartment buildings went up. Five-star restaurants, fast-food chains, and brand-name clothing stores popped up everywhere. “Must be…what, over seven thousand people now?”

  “For sure,” said Emma. “It’s amazing how the expansion of the college changed things. Sure, when I first started teaching here St. Bridget’s offered only a handful of courses. Now look at us.”

  Although the school was more a college than a university, students who wanted to complete a degree could now do their foundation year at St. Bridget’s. They offered certificate programs in everything from criminology to creative writing. However, the drama department was the biggest asset, attracting students nationwide. It offered a four-year degree program and some of the best people in the country taught there.

  Emma peered at Lauren. “I take it this will be your last term teaching.”

  “I’m afraid so. I’m just too busy.” She smiled. “But at least now I get to see more of you, Emma. You look great, by the way. What have you done to your hair?”

  Emma touched her stylish layers. “Just a cut and a few highlights.”

  “Looks fabulous,” Lauren said, taking it in.

  Emma continued to study her. “Anything else bothering you?”

  Lauren took a deep breath. Only a few close friends knew about her humiliating past. Even Emma didn’t know all the details. Lauren repeated Devon’s remark. “Maybe I’m being overly sensitive,” she added.

  “You need to let that crap go, sure. Don’t let it define you.”

  “I know. I know. Still, I can’t help thinking about how my foolishness could have gotten me disbarred.”

  “It’s all in the past now. No need to even go there.”

  “You’re right,” Lauren agreed. “I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to return your calls,” she said, suddenly remembering the reason for her visit.

  “Don’t worry about it, girl,” Emma said. “Sure, I know how busy you are. I did want to talk to you about one of your students, though: Jade Roberts. Has she been attending classes?”

  “Not regularly, no. And she’s behind on all her assignments.”

  Emma frowned. “She’ll lose her bursary if she doesn’t keep up her grades.”

  Lauren grimaced. “I don’t know how she’ll manage if that happens. A single mom with an infant.”

  “Since her baby’s birth, she’s become a changed person, that one.”

  “It happens to all of us.”

  “Except Jade’s become less responsible.”

  Lauren knew that Jade had lost her driver’s license due to impaired driving. And she had come to school hungover on a couple of occasions. Still she felt a tug of sympathy, knowing how difficult it was raising a child alone.

  “You busy right now?” Emma asked.

  Lauren thought of the stack of unmarked papers on her desk. She had a client at two, a court appearance at three. “I have a little free time,” she said.

  “I thought we could visit Jade, have a chat with her.”

  “Well…I suppose,” Lauren hedged, not sure how involved she should become in her students’ lives. They were adults, after all. And this job was only temporary.

  “The scholarship committee needs to be informed if students are not fulfilling their commitments,” Emma reminded her.

  “True,” Lauren agreed. Sooner or later, she’d have to confront Jade about her absenteeism and failing grades. “Does she know we’re coming?”

  “Her phone’s disconnected. We’ll have to drop by unannounced.”

  Lauren stood up. “Give me fifteen minutes and I’ll meet you in the parking lot.”

  —

  “This is it,” Emma said, parking across the street from a three-storey apartment building.

  Lauren stared out the car window at the sagging balconies enclosed by rusting wrought iron. A wooden fire escape ran up one side of the building. A sign advertised apartments, ranging in price from five to six hundred dollars monthly.

  Emma turned off the engine. “Let’s hope Jade’s home.”

  In the foyer, Lauren ran a finger down the list of tenant names posted on the wall, found the apartment number, and rang the doorbell.

  “Come in,” Jade called over the intercom, buzzing them in without question.

  After climbing two flights of steps, they opened a door into a narrow hallway. Television sets and stereos blared behind thin walls as they stepped over toys and footwear. Fried onions and other food odours mingled with the stale cigarette smoke that hovered heavily in the air.

  Jade stood outside her apartment door. She’d lost weight, Lauren realized. Shadows dark as bruises rimmed her eyes. She wore torn jeans and a button-down shirt rolled up at the sleeves. She frowned as Lauren and Emma approached. “Professor Buckle…Professor LaVallee?” She looked past them down the dim empty hallway.

  She’d been expecting someone else, Lauren realized.

  “We tried to call, but your phone’s disconnected,” Emma said. “What’s up, girl?”

  Lauren smiled, liking the easy rapport Emma had with her students.

  Jade leaned against the door frame, eyeing them warily. “I couldn’t pay the bill. Had my service suspended until I can catch up. It’s not easy, you know.”

  “We understand, but we need to talk,” Lauren said.

  Jade pushed open the door. “Come in,” she said, ushering them into a tiny living room with broken-down furniture. A hideous brown carpet covered the floor. Bright butterflies were stuck to walls and furniture, adding colour to the otherwise drab room. Jade’s baby was in a portable carrier chewing on a set of plastic keys. A purple butterfly with white silk wings was stuck to the side of the seat.

  “Jade, your little girl’s adorable,” Lauren said, kneeling on the floor beside the infant. “What’s her name?”

  “That’s Cara.” Jade shook her head. “She’s a handful.”

  “She has your colouring,” Lauren said, taking in the baby’s olive skin and dark eyes. “How old is she now?”

  “Almost seven months, and just starting to crawl. Soon she’ll be into everything.”

  The baby smiled, showing toothless gums.

  “Don’t mind the mess.” Jade picked up toys and books, making room for them on a battered sofa.

  Emma and Lauren sat next to each other. Jade remained standing, arms crossed over her chest. They made small talk ab
out the weather, the price of gas, a play the drama students were putting on. Jade restlessly paced the room, her eye on a cat-shaped clock on the living room wall. “Mind if I smoke?” she asked. Without waiting for an answer, she pulled a package of cigarettes from her pocket.

  Lauren looked from Jade to the sleeping baby.

  “I’ll blow the smoke outside.” Jade opened a set of glass doors that led to a small terrace. A number of butterflies were fixed to the glass. She took a cigarette from the package and lit it.

  “Jade,” Emma began, “you haven’t been attending classes, and your grades are slipping.”

  “What are you, the campus police?” Although Jade smiled, there was no mistaking the hard edge in her voice.

  “We’re concerned about you,” Emma continued. “You need to keep up your grades to hold on to your bursary. Your two papers are long overdue. They should have been in a few weeks ago. But you know that, sure.”

  “I’ve been looking for a job.” Jade blew a plume of smoke through the patio door. “They fired me at the jail because of all the time I missed.” She motioned toward the baby. “Everything’s changed since Cara came.”

  “It’s not easy being a single mother,” Emma agreed. “My baby was fifteen months old when my husband died. And Professor LaVallee—”

  “I never married Bailey’s father,” Lauren cut in.

  Jade puffed on her cigarette. “But you both have good jobs.”

  “We’re better off financially,” Lauren agreed, “but you have a chance to better yourself, Jade.”

  “I’m thinking about putting Cara in foster care.”

  Lauren flinched. She couldn’t imagine choosing to do that.

  “It’s temporary,” Jade said. “Just until I can save some money. Diapers and formula are expensive.”

  So are cigarettes, Lauren thought, but she said nothing.

  “You got family here?” Emma asked.

  “My mother lives in St. John’s.” Jade looked from Emma to Lauren, glaring at each of them in turn. “It’s not like I’m abandoning my daughter.”