Maddie was getting worried. For the 100th time, she went over in her mind what Susan had asked her to do.
Take the keys, lock the main doors and then meet me at the staff entrance at the back of the library.
That is exactly what Susan had asked and exactly what Maddie had done.
Susan was the library supervisor and it should have taken her no more than five or ten minutes and yet here it was almost 30 minutes and no sign of her. Maddie, a summer student, had tried phoning Susan but it went to voice mail.
Maddie’s mind went over the day. It was busy, that’s for sure. It rained most of the day and the library had been full of kids who usually played in the park or the nearby wading pool. She thought many of them had been little brats. They didn’t understand that, unlike the park, the library was a quiet place where you didn’t yell, run, or push other kids. There had also been more than the usual number of the library’s regular folk and they’d stayed all day. These were the people who visited often, usually not for books but to use the washrooms. Most days they lived on the street hoping for spare change or at least a free coffee or a bottle of water. Today, they needed shelter from the rain.
Maddie started pacing. Her mind ran through various scenarios. Maybe Susan had tripped over a shelving ladder, or perhaps she’d locked herself in the bathroom, or maybe she’d had a stroke, or maybe she’d …
And then she heard her dead grandmother’s voice in her head, “For goodness sakes Maddie, pull yourself together. Go inside and look around and then decide the next steps.”
And so Maddie did. Up and down the stairs, in and out of every nook and cranny of the library. No sign of Susan. And then she went to see if Susan’s car was parked in its usual spot. No car. Maddie’s mind was racing and her heart was thumping.
Okay, Nancy Drew what next. Call the other librarians. Call Mum. Call 911.
Deciding she couldn’t solve this herself, and probably neither could her mother nor the other librarians, Maddie settled on calling the police.
“Operator 911. Can I have your name please?”
The operator asked Maddie questions. Did she know where her boss lived? Had she tried phoning her? Was this the usual way of locking up in the evening? Finally, after what seemed to Maddie to be an enormous waste of time, the operator said, “You hold tight, I’ll send someone as soon as possible.”
Fifteen minutes later a police car pulled up in front of the library. About time thought Maddie. Don’t they know this is an emergency?
Two officers, a man and a woman, got out of the car with notebooks at the ready. They told Maddie their cameras were on as they walked towards her and then they indicated they should all go to the back entrance. As they walked down the path, past the rose gardens to the back of the library, the officers asked Maddie questions, many a repeat of what she had already answered for the 911 operator.
“What’s Susan’s last name? Do you have her phone number? What about her address? Has she ever done this before? Did you notice anything strange happening in the library today? Was anyone upset or angry in any way?”
Maddie explained it had been a crazy day with all the extra kids and the street people in the library because of the rain.
The male officer, who’d introduced himself as Officer Brownley, took the phone numbers of the other library staff and went off to call them and to check the footage from the surveillance camera. The woman officer asked questions about the behaviour of the people who’d been in the library that day.
She seemed especially interested in the ‘street’ folk. “Any of those people get aggressive or angry? Did you notice any of them doing drugs? Did they annoy regular visitors to the library?”
“Absolutely not,” said Maddie, “they’re the nicest people and always so grateful.”
“What about those coming in to use the library services, books or videos or to study.”
“Look,” said Maddie who by now was getting quite sick of these silly questions and wished the police would do their job and go make sure Susan was okay. “I’ve been here for three months now, and as far as I know there have only been two people in that entire time who got a bit mad.”
“And why was that?”
“When the library system was shut down because of those cybercriminals stealing data, well this lady came in and was furious because we couldn’t tell her whether or not a book was in the system. She really went off her rocker.”
“Has she been in since, do you know?” asked the officer.
“I’m not sure.”
“And, the other person?”
“He was a nut case. He was furious with everyone really, but especially Susan because she’s the head librarian. He yelled and screamed and banged on the counter – and all in front of the children too. His face got all red and blotchy, he looked scary.”
Maddie paused. “It was about our children’s books for LGBTQ kids. He said that God will punish us. That we’d all go to hell eventually but Susan, ‘cos she was in charge, would very soon be swept up by God and taken to hell in the twinkling of an eye.”
The officer called out to her partner, “How’s it going with the footage?”
She then turned to Maddie, “Thank you, Maddie, you’ve been a big help. We’re going now to check Susan’s apartment. Do you have far to get home? Could we give you a ride?”
“It’s okay,” said Maddie, “I have my bike here. How will I know about Susan?”
“We’ll let you know as soon as possible.”
After Maddie left, the officers called their staff sergeant.
“Hey boss, remember that library incident at 53 Division a couple of weeks back? We got something similar at the Beaches library.”
“Yeah, the branch supervisor is missing. Her name is Susan Hunter. We spoke to the summer student, she said her boss went to double-check the returned books section in the basement and she never came back. She told us this guy came in yelling and screaming and telling them they’d go to hell. It was all over the LGBTQ kids’ books.
And then when we reached the branch deputy supervisor, he panicked when we told him the story. He wasn’t at work today but he said a few days ago several books were returned disfigured with every page marked with a cross in red ink. Yep, you’ve guessed it; they were kids’ books about growing up gay.”
“You’re kidding. You got footage? What else? Ok, come on back to the station.”
***
Although her heart was beating and her hands were sweaty and shaking, Susan knew her best chance of survival was to stay calm.
She had no idea where she was or where she was going. All she knew, she had been putting her shopping in the trunk of her car, which was parked outside the library, before she went to retrieve the library keys from Maddie. Next thing, two young men who looked like well-dressed university students had thrown her into the trunk of her car. Now they were driving very fast, weaving in and out of traffic. They hadn’t really hurt her. In fact, one of the young men had said, “Sorry Mam,” as he had pushed her into the trunk.
She guessed by the number of turns and the speed they were going they were no longer on Queen Street but she was sure they were driving east. She figured probably they’d driven north onto Kingston Road. She ran through all the possible places they could be heading. Maybe up to the 401? And then where? Whitby, Ajax, Oshawa. Port Hope? Why would they be going there? And who are these guys? They looked like well-dressed university students. They could be anybody’s kids. But, as she had said many times, you can’t judge a book by its cover.
What on earth would they want with a librarian? If they had to grab some random person why wouldn’t they have grabbed someone who looked rich, in a fancy car? Maybe they thought I was someone else. Maybe they plan to hold me hostage until someone pays up some money. Maybe they need a getaway car.
“Hell, it’s hard to breathe in here,” Susan said to herself. “I hope I don’t suffocate. Thank goodness I’m not claustrophobic.”
While she was concerned for her safety, she was also worried about Maddie, such a sweet girl. I wonder what she did when I didn’t come to meet her. Did she give up and go home, did she call any of the other librarians or the police or is she trying to solve my disappearance herself like Nancy Drew?
Maddie had once told Susan that Nancy Drew stories were her favourite books. Susan hoped Maddie would call the police because no one would know she was missing until the morning, when she didn’t show up for work. She lived alone so there was no one worrying about where she might be.
Susan tensed. They seemed to be breaking and driving down a hill. “Where are we?” thought Susan. “There aren’t many steep hills in Toronto”.
She cursed herself for buying such a small car as she reached around in the tiny trunk hoping she’d find a snow scrapper that she’d left there since winter. She could use it if she needed to defend herself.
Suddenly the car came to a screeching halt. “My poor brakes,” thought Susan. No sooner had this thought gone through her head than the car started to bump so violently it felt like she was inside a basketball being bounced from one end of the court to the other.
And then it was over. The car doors slammed shut and then the trunk was opened by the same young man who had pushed her into the trunk. Once again he said, “Sorry Mam.”
She stayed still for a few moments trying to decide what to do next. Are they going to come back? Am I safe? Should I get out now? Should I phone the police or should I drive away? Shit, I can’t call for help, they took my phone. And I can’t drive away, they have my car keys.
She finally climbed out of the trunk, straightened her hair, wiped the perspiration off her forehead and pulled down her skirt which had risen above her knees. She could feel a sense of delayed shock taking over. She started talking to herself, Susan Hunter, pull yourself together there is no point in falling apart now. As she stood there, collecting her thoughts and wondering what to do next, a man in his 40s approached her.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Well as a matter of fact I’m not,” said Susan. “I just got thrown into the trunk of my car driven here from the Beaches, and – and.”
Susan began to cry.
“Bloody hell,” said the man. “I’ll call the cops. Don’t worry, you’re safe now. My name’s Sam Morgan, I live on a houseboat just over there.” And he pointed in the direction of the marina.”
“This is the operator. Can I have your name and address please?”
“Sam Morgan, I’m at the Bluffs, on Brimley Road. I’m with a lady who was thrown into the trunk of her car and driven here from the Beaches by two young men she described as well-dressed like university students except they were wearing masks and gloves. Yes, the car is off the road down the side of the bank. They took off on foot apparently – her car is here. No, she’s not hurt, she is remarkably calm, scared of course but doesn’t appear to be hurt.”
“What is her name?”
“Susan Hunter.”
“OK, police are on their way, please stay with her and remain on the line until they arrive.”
***
In minutes, six police cars came screaming down the hill, taking the bends in the road at high speed and screeching to a halt beside Susan and Sam Morgan. Police officers jumped out of the cars and were everywhere – some were running toward the marina, others were cordoning off the car; two of them were pushing their way into the bramble bushes on the side of the road. Two others came to speak with Susan who, now safe, was beginning to enjoy the excitement of it all.
After taking her statement, the officer handed Susan her phone and said, “You’re lucky, they left your phone and keys in the car. We’ll have to keep your car here until all evidence has been collected.” And then he confirmed what Susan had overheard – this had all been about illegal drugs. The kids that drove you here, I suspect they’ve been caught up in something much more dangerous than they anticipated.”
“So,” said Susan, “those two young men just needed my car to get to the marina to accept a shipment of drugs coming in on a sailboat to OUR marina?”
“That’s right,” said the officer. “We were aware that something was happening and we’ve been watching this group for some time now.”
“But I thought illegal drugs and things came hidden in big containers into ports like Vancouver and Halifax.”
“Yes, most do but there’s an increasing number of these illegal operators who use small sailboats to disguise and transport shipments of drugs and guns into Canada through privately owned marinas.”
“Wow,” said Susan, “I’m in the book business, but I never ever thought I’d be in my own crime story. And Maddie, she’s our summer student and the person who dialled 911; told me Nancy Drew stories were her favourite books growing up. She’ll want to be in the story.”
She laughed and said to the officer, “You want to be in it too? You could be Hudson from Hudson and Rex on City TV, but you’ll need to get a dog.”
“We’ll see what we can do about that dog,” said the officer. “We could sure use a little help from someone as smart as Rex. In the meantime, we could use your help on another matter involving the library. We heard about the gentleman who threatened you because of the LGBTQ books. One of your assistants told us about him. We’d like you to speak with someone from our Hate Crime Unit.”
“Oh my goodness,” said Susan. “He was frightening and then when we got those returned books all marked up. Well, to tell you the truth, I wondered about him when I was dragged off in my car and I wished we had reported him at the time. And, of course, I’d be delighted to help in any way I can.”
That night as Susan desperately tried to sleep and her mind raced from the events of the day to the tasks awaiting her at the library in the morning, she thought of the recent shocking news about Alice Munro. How could Alice have chosen that horrible, pedophile, that disgusting person over her beautiful, innocent daughter? How could she not protect her child? How could she stay with that creepy, repulsive monster?
All that aside, thought Susan, Alice Munro was an extraordinary writer. I do hope people can separate the writer from the very flawed woman. Oh my goodness, that’ll be the next thing – Alice Munro books returned all marked up in red ink.
And right there, at that moment, Susan could see her own book filed in the Toronto Public Library system:
Crime: The adventures of a librarian. Hunter, Susan, 1970 –
Book 2025, 200 pages
Place Hold: 10 holds/30 copies
