by Dale Mayer
“She still says that Simon knows something about it.”
“Does she say what?”
“That’s the problem. She’s gets cagey at that point, so I’m not sure how much of her story I can believe.”
“Maybe none of it,” Kate said tiredly. “I think he professes to be some psychic.”
Jennifer snorted. “Oh, great, just what I need,” she said. “Who the hell needs that shit in their case?”
“Right? Yet the minute we have a missing child, all the crazies come out of the woodwork,” Kate said.
“But this guy came out ahead of time, didn’t he?”
“Well, you could say that,” she replied. “The trouble is, I don’t think I believe him.”
“But you can’t find a way to disprove him, is that it?”
“You could say that,” she said, “and it really sucks.”
“I get it,” she said, “but nothing much you can do about it.”
“I’m keeping an eye on him anyway,” Kate said.
“Just make sure you keep your focus on the cases and not get sidetracked by your suspect.”
“Wasn’t planning on it,” she said, “but something’s going on here. There’s something, I know it. I just don’t know what he’s involved in.”
“And, of course, that doesn’t mean that it’s anything relating to this case,” Jennifer said in warning.
“I know,” she snapped. “But I can’t get him out of my mind.”
“I’ll send you the file,” Jennifer said. “See if anything pops.”
“Good enough,” she said. “I’ll go over it, see if I can come up with anything.”
“It’s already almost twenty-four hours,” Jennifer said, her voice heavy. “You know what that means.”
“I know,” Kate said, “but we have to keep up hope.”
“Yes, I’m in the wrong business for that.”
Kate heard the hard click of the phone, as the call disconnected. She sat back in her chair, rubbing her eyes. She had attempted to follow St. Laurant this morning, and now it was midafternoon of the same day. A frustratingly useless day. Just then Colby called out for her. She looked up to see him motioning at her to follow him. She got up, grabbed her coffee, walked in his office, behind him.
“What do you have for me?” he asked.
“I can tell you about the markings on the wrist,” she said, “but we don’t have decent enough photos or any mention of the marks in the old cases.”
He leaned forward. “What markings?”
She brought up photos on her phone and said, “The coroner found it on Jason, after I mentioned it.”
Colby stared at it, shook his head. “What is that?”
“As near as I can tell,” she said, “it’s like a faint wavy line, making a cartoonish set of lips.”
He looked at her in disgust. She shrugged and showed him a slight image. “Seriously?”
“I can’t tell you any more than that,” she said. “I don’t know what it means.”
“Well, I don’t like what it implies,” he snapped.
“None of us do,” she said mildly.
“I know. I know,” he said, “but I was hoping you could find a connection. Or rather I was hoping you wouldn’t find any connections.”
“I found a couple.”
“And?”
“That’s the problem,” she said. “There isn’t enough yet to bother mentioning. I’m still looking.”
“Any progress on who’s behind all this?”
She shook her head.
“What about the psychic?”
“He knows more than he’s telling,” she said. “I just don’t know what.”
“That’s it then,” he said. “Bring him in for questioning. And it’s time for you to tell the team.” She hesitated. He looked up at her and asked, “Problems?”
She stood, shoved her hands in her pockets, and said, “Maybe it’d be better if you told the team.”
He dropped his pencil, sat back, and looked at her. “Problems with the team?”
She shook her head. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
“Call a meeting,” he said. “I want to be there.”
She nodded and walked out. As she returned to the bullpen, where everybody was working, she said, “Colby asked me to call a meeting now for everyone. We’re going into boardroom two.” She walked into the boardroom ahead of everybody, wishing she had her files from home with her.
When Colby walked in a few minutes later, he said, “We may have a problem. As this is supposed to be a team effort, I’ll tell you right now that I had Kate do this on her own, and, now that she’s found a few things, I want the team to look at what she’s found and to tear it apart,” he said. “If you can’t find holes in this and if you see the connection that she sees, we’ve got a problem on our hands. A very big problem.”
She watched the team as their expressions went from curiosity to anger at him for assigning her a private job, then back to curiosity.
Colby said, “Detective Morgan, explain, please.”
She nodded. “Sixteen days ago, we had a man walk into the station,” she said. “We all made fun of it at the time. He had information about children’s cases from his nightmares,” she said, “but he didn’t know when, where, how, why, what, who, or anything else,” she said, as she raised her hands in frustration. “As you can guess, by the end of my interview, he was deemed somewhere along the line between fanatic and psychic. I didn’t know where on the crazy list to put him. I just knew that he was on there somewhere.”
The others groaned. Andy said, “These psychics don’t know much. And what they know is never helpful.”
“True, and that’s how I felt about it too, when Colby tasked me with the job of proving that the info was full of shit.”
“Like we’ve got time for that,” muttered Owen. Except Colby looked at him; he winced and said, “Sir.”
“Oh, I get it,” Colby said. “But, every once in a while, we also have to consider the fact that sometimes, just sometimes, we are wrong, and people actually do have information.”
“So what did this guy have to say?” Lilliana said from the back of the room.
Kate replied, summarizing Simon’s visions and as much of the work that she had sorted out in her head. “I don’t have my files here,” she said. “I was working on this at home, so everything is currently up on my board there.”
“Tomorrow morning—or the next morning if shit hits the fan—but as soon as possible,” Colby said, “I want it all recreated here. On this wall. Whatever cases you found, whatever bits and pieces you’ve got, I want to know,” he said. “Tell them about the mark.”
Everybody leaned forward.
“What the hell is going on here?” Owen said. “We used to be a team.”
“You used to be,” Kate said. “I arrived as the rejected newest member.”
He had the grace to look a little ashamed. Then he shrugged and said, “Hey, we’re all dealing with something.”
Silence.
She continued. “The mark is on Jason,” she said, “the dead little boy we found over a week ago. It’s faint, as in barely discernible faint, but, when we enlarged the images, we saw it. I’ve only got it on my phone right now.” She brought it out and showed the same one she’d shown to Colby. She passed her phone around, so they could all look at it.
One by one they shrugged and wrote it off as nothing.
“That same mark is on eight other cases, going back as far as fifteen years ago,” she said flatly.
Silence.
“What?” Lilliana cried out. “You’re serious?”
“I’m dead serious,” she said. “Unfortunately seven of those eight are dead too. One little girl remains missing. I highly suspect this pedophile has been operating a lot longer than that, and I don’t have any idea how many related cases there may be. I’ll get Reese on it now.”
A general skeptical grumbling went through the group.
/> “Also there’s another similarity.”
They just stared at her.
“What’s that?” Rodney asked suspiciously.
“Each of the dead children was found with a piece of clothing that wasn’t theirs,” she said gently. “Close, but not quite the same.”
“And DNA?”
“No DNA in the other files. The clothing found on Jason wasn’t his and is currently with Forensics.”
“Well, if the clothing was washed, it’s no longer viable to collect any evidence from,” Lilliana said.
“Quite probably,” Kate said. “I think this guy has a closetful of odd clothing, all in children’s sizes …”
“Jesus Christ.” Rodney sat back, as he tossed his pencil on the table. “So, what is this? A lone ranger club now?”
“Well, let’s see,” she said. “What cases have you been working on for the last three months?”
He slammed his chair forward and said, “I’ve been working on the god-damn Waxner projects.” He just glared at her, looked at the others. “We were doing fine until you came.”
“Good. I got it,” she said. “Chet was great. Chet was your buddy, and he was a hell of a good guy, cut down too early in life. And, damn it, it’s not fair. But it happened. I’m sorry for that. I really am,” she said, her voice hard. “And I get that it’s been a shock, something none of you want to adapt to,” she said. “But Chet is gone, yet I’m here. Now this is what I found, and I’ll continue to work the case. So either join in or fuck off. I don’t much care,” she said calmly. “Actually I’d prefer to work alone, but that’s not my call.” With that, she sat back in her chair. Looking over at Colby, she said, “Back to you, Sergeant.”
He stared at her, then looked at the rest of the team and asked, “Seriously? Even three months in?” He looked over at Rodney. “Are you working on cases you haven’t told her about?”
Rodney flustered, tried to bluster his way out of it, but Lilliana stepped up. “Yes, we do have a couple.”
“What the hell?” Colby roared. “I didn’t bring her in here to work on her own cases. She brings a different perspective that you need to be open to. This stops now. Do you hear me? Every one of you will stay late until you go over the cases that you are working on, until you’re all brought up to speed. Do you hear me?”
They all stared at him, and not one of them argued. Eventually there was four nods. He turned to look at Kate. “This goes for you too. Do you understand me?”
She gave a clipped nod. “Yes.”
“From this moment on, if I find anybody is lone rangering a case, they will be up for reprimand,” he said. “And I’m okay to kick your ass off the team, if I have to,” he said. “I get that we had a great team with Chet. But he is gone, like Kate said. She can’t step into his shoes. She has no intentions of doing so, and she shouldn’t have to. He was a good man and a great detective. She’s made detective grade, and you have to give her a chance to prove herself. Honestly, after all this, I think she already has. She’s found all kinds of things here that none of us even noticed. That’s not acceptable. Somehow this unit has fractured. Fix it or I will.” At that, he turned and walked out.
There was a moment of silence, and Kate stared at the rest of them. She didn’t say a word because whatever they did now would make or break the next few months.
Lilliana stepped up and said, “Okay. Now that we have it all out in the open,” she said, “let’s go over the cases. Let’s do it all together, so we’ve all got the latest on everything.” It took a moment, but the others nodded; the atmosphere was stiff but workable.
And they spent the next hour sharing with Kate their progress on the various cases, much of which she already knew, because, as much as they thought they were keeping it quiet, they weren’t. She worked in the same area with the same analyst and assistants and even the other two detective teams, which thankfully were on the other end of the hallway. But since they hadn’t bothered to share, she had done her research on her own. Still, she had three cases that she was working on with two of them, but it bothered her that they were working on two other cases and hadn’t updated her. Still, she listened, grabbed materials that they had, photocopied it, and stacked up the files.
“What are you doing with that?” Rodney asked, nodding at the stack she had in front of her. “We like digital.”
“Good for you,” she said. “I’m taking this home, so I can catch up on it tonight,” she said. She grabbed her jacket and her keys, snagged the stack, and walked out.
It was all she could do to hold down the sense of betrayal she felt inside. Making detective had been everything she had cared about for so long. She had her reasons, and she sure as hell wouldn’t share any of that with them. But the fact was, she had made the grade.
And every one of those assholes out there who were after kids? Well, they had just better start shaking in their boots because she was coming after them, one by one.
Chapter 9
Thursday Afternoon, Late
Kate headed home, but, before she’d gone even halfway, she got a text from Missing Persons. It was her friend Jennifer. Is this your buddy? And she sent through an image.
Kate clicked to see the image. And then she sent a text back. Yes, that’s him. Why?
He’s been flagged as a person of interest.
Have we got a tail on him?
Jennifer called her back. “Sometimes texting is just too damn frustrating,” she said.
“I get it,” Kate replied. “Did you put a tail on him?” It was hard to contain the excitement in her voice.
“You like that idea, don’t you?” she said. “Let’s just say that, after the mother, aunt, and other people mentioned him, he came up as suspicious.”
“Suspicious as in charlatan or suspicious as in pedophile?”
“As somebody who might know something,” she said, “and I’m not above using whatever assistance there is.”
“Got it,” she said.
“Down on Main Street, as in an hour ago.”
“Interesting location,” Kate said. “Any idea where he is?”
“Why?”
“He lives in the False Creek North area.”
A whistle came through. “So he has money?”
“Yes, remember the charlatan part?”
Jennifer chuckled. “You don’t like anybody in that field.”
“I don’t,” she said. “I don’t like anything about it or him.”
“But, then again, that doesn’t make him a conman.”
“Maybe not,” Kate replied, “but I don’t trust him.”
“Or you don’t trust yourself?”
She gave a bitter laugh. “Hardly the issue at the moment.”
“Maybe. Are you following him now too?”
Kate crossed the street to flag a cab and to head to the same area. “I wasn’t, but, because of the way he is acting, we should keep a close eye on him. I’m tempted to go down there myself.”
“What would that tell you?” Jennifer asked.
“I don’t know,” Kate said. At the moment, not exactly an easy question to answer.
“If you want to watch …”
“As long as I don’t get in the way, I know,” Kate said. “I’m likely to head down too.”
Off the phone, she looked around. Instead of finding a cab, she saw an approaching bus, which would take her downtown. She hopped on and got off when she hit Granville Street. It was a Thursday evening, and lots of people mingled around the downtown area, with its several movie theaters, lovely little restaurants, late-night pubs and bars. It was a great time to be in Vancouver.
Unless you were a little boy.
And unless you were a pedophile, she hoped, because a lot of people were out looking for these perverts. She sent Jennifer a text and gave her the location. Where is the tail?
Heading south, down to the Pacific Centre.
On it, Kate typed. She adjusted her route toward the direction she’d been
given. When she passed the Pacific Centre, with no sign of Simon or anyone else, she quickly checked in again.
He’s gone into the mall, Jennifer replied.
Interesting. She frowned. She looked around, wondering at the sense of eeriness, as if she too were being watched. That was often the case with the cat-and-mouse game that occurred whenever she was tailing somebody. It often seemed like she was being tailed too. With someone like Simon, she wouldn’t at all doubt it. Something was, although she hated to say it, almost otherworldly about him. Something weird in those silvery-gray eyes.
A guy shouldn’t have eyes like that, nor should he have those long lashes. Most women she knew would love to have those lashes naturally, instead of opting for the bother and the expense of extensions. His complexion was also smooth too; he woke up beautiful with no effort at all. She hated him for that.
How come men could get up and just be perfect, with no makeup, no curlers or irons or whatever the hell? And she bet he never had to endure a five-product facial regime. She was always so stressed by the demands of her job that at least one zit was coming up somewhere on her face. She didn’t give a shit where it was though, just that it hurt. She did the standard scrub and wash before bed and, in the morning, just got up, brushed her hair after a shower, braided it, and she was out the door.
She didn’t have time for the forty-minute rigmarole that so many women did. Her friend Zoe had told Kate that it only took ten minutes, but, when Zoe showed Kate how that ten minutes went, it ended up being twenty-five. Her friend smiled and said, “With time it gets faster.”
“Screw that,” she muttered. The last thing she had time for was makeup. Even now, she pinched the bridge of her nose to keep her eyes a little more awake. A child was at stake here, and she jogged down the steps to the end of the mall, her eyes quickly adjusting to the fake lighting. Her phone buzzed.
He is heading toward the Robson Street exit.
She swore, raced back up to the main road instead of walking through the mall. She quickly jogged a couple blocks, heading toward the same exit. She got there just as Simon came up the steps. She stopped for a moment, but he didn’t even seem to care; he walked calmly forward, following some North Star, as if he had some internal guidance. He walked with a purpose, and she had no idea what that purpose was.
