by Jason Mason
She wiped her eyes and her nose with the sleeve of her coat. As Baker looked her over he could tell she was clearly a mess, with her tears freezing to her cheeks and her nose running. Her eyes were red and puffy and she shivered often in the cold.
“I don’t want to look anymore,” she told him, as she turned her head to stare blankly out into the darkness. Baker grabbed her by the head and turned her to face him.
“You don’t have to look,” he said resolutely. “But even if you don’t, I will. I will find out what happened to Mary.”
And with that, in a moment of weakness, Connie leaned in to kiss him. The surprising part wasn’t that she kissed him, but that he kissed her back. It brought back a rush of memories and emotions, to when they were a couple. However, after only a split second they pulled back, realizing what they’ve done.
“I’m sorry,” he said still looking into her eyes.
“It’s ok,” she smiled though her eyes were still red and wet.
“I just want you to hold me for a while.”
So he held her as they looked up at the stars through the clear winter night that was only beginning to get blurred by the softly falling snowflakes. It wasn’t late, but at this time of year the sun is long gone by six in the evening and nobody else was in the park but them. It was a shame too, since the green dancing of the northern lights were visible tonight, even this close to the glow of the city.
◆◆◆
Baker met Connie while he was still in his last year of law school at the University of Alberta while she was getting her master’s degree in biology. It was the typical friend of a friend situation, but from the first time Baker saw Connie walking with one of his roommate’s girlfriends he was hooked. He ended up bribing his roommate by doing all of his work on a group project if he could set up a few two on two meet-ups with her so he could find out if she was the real deal.
They were both young, but not the typical stupid undergrad students that were all too common on campus. First, both were on their second degrees but more importantly both were extremely motivated and goal driven. Connie to perfection, while Baker to a fault. They instantly hit it off, owning any conversations that arose with Baker’s knowledge of history and science, and Connie’s mastery of literature, the arts, and sports (which she was far more into than Baker, especially the local sporting scene).
Baker still remembered their first real date, after doing a few group activities and really hitting it off with each other. It was in the early spring and they first went to a protest, which neither of them were too keen on joining into but were interested in checking it out just to see the crowd. Baker suggested it, and Connie went along just to spend some more time with him. After that, they ended up going on a walk together downtown, checking out the local shops and going into the river valley a little bit. One place they stumbled into was an educational movie theatre about the history of Alberta on the legislature grounds.
“This is so impressive,” Connie whispered to him as the circular screen dropped down to the middle of the small theatre and the history of the province – from the aboriginal origins to settlers to war and eventually oil prosperity – appeared in glorious three dimensions. It wasn’t even just good for a free government production, it was legitimately good production.
“Yeah it is,” he replied as he grabbed her hand in the empty theatre. Once she grabbed it back, he decided it was the time to move in for the first kiss and she agreed. Sparks flew immediately, and not in a way that’s ever happened to Baker before or since.
He also remembered when he finally asked her out to be his girlfriend a few weeks later. They were both on campus during the middle of the election season, when Baker invited her over to watch the leader’s debate with him that night.
“I think that depends, should we really be talking about politics this soon after meeting each other?” Connie asked him, feeling a little nervous about the implications of this event. She thought Baker was a very good looking man, fun and he was starting to win her heart over at the time, and she didn’t want to ruin anything by finding out they were ideologically opposite of each other.
“No, it should be fine! Besides, this is an election for the next leader of Canada, it’s too important to skip out on just because we’re afraid of offending each other. Let’s just make a promise that no matter what, there will be no judgments tonight, okay?” Baker told her optimistically.
“Sure, that sounds good Baker… but before we go back, can I ask you who you’re supporting in this race?” Connie asked nervously.
“Well… I am Albertan, so you know what that means.”
“I do…” Connie replied, not entirely sure what he meant by it.
“It means I support whoever is the least stupid!”
With that Connie laughed. Neither she nor Baker really cared too much about which party won the election, their only concern was that the election was fair and whoever won was capable of doing the job. Criminal reform was Baker’s main concern, while Connie was interested in any kind of health care promises being made. In any event, they didn’t end up watching very much of the debate that night as sitting on the couch lead to kissing, which lead to fooling around, which lead – much to Baker’s chagrin – nowhere else. Connie wasn’t that type of girl, and that made Baker want her even more. So he asked her out and she agreed to be his girlfriend.
They ended up dating for a number of years, and Baker hadn’t dated anyone as seriously as Connie since they broke up, though he had a number of girlfriends. She ended up meeting someone almost as soon as they broke up and married him within a year of them meeting. Baker surmised that this was probably a rebound that ended up going much further than she had ever intended but since she was always pressuring him for marriage, she ended up dating someone who had a rubber arm when it came to that. Of course, after he proposed to her she was stuck. Baker only found out about this second hand as they were not speaking anymore since the break-up.
◆◆◆
Though he was freezing himself, Baker opened his coat so that he could wrap it around Connie as well as him to keep her even warmer. He placed his arm around her shoulder and pulled her a little closer to him, partly to share the body heat and feel warm, but partly so that she could feel his touch. And so he could feel hers again. After what felt like an hour of this, but was in all reality no more than ten minutes Connie looked up at him.
“Thank you Baker,” she smiled. “But do you have your car here? I’m frozen.”
“I thought you’d never ask,” he responded with a grin and she wiped her eyes.
He twisted his head around to look back at his Mercedes and pressing a button on the fob turned the engine over so it would warm up for them as they walked over. Once they got in the vehicle and took off their coats and gloves, he noticed the gold chain she was wearing around her neck with a small emerald pendant. He remembered that chain vividly. He bought it for her for her birthday almost seven years ago.
“You’re still wearing that chain I got you,” he remarked with a smile.
“Oh, I still do sometimes,” she replied embarrassed and tucking it under her shirt. “It’s a really nice necklace, so thank you.”
Baker reminisced about it for a second, wondering if he should let it slide or keep going. Rubbing his hands together to get feeling back in them, he opted for the latter.
“You know, when I bought that for you I wanted to get you something really special. So I asked Mary to come out with me to the West Edmonton Mall and check out all the stores with me to see if any of them had something nice I could get you. When she found that necklace she told me I could stop shopping right then and there and take her to the Waterslide Park because you would love that one,” he said, trying not to get choked up. “I think she was right.”
“Did she really?” Connie asked admiring the gemstone again. “She would. She knows me better than anyone else.”
Looking back up from the necklace, Connie had a warm smile on h
er face, it raised her spirits a bit to know that her sister helped pick out her favourite piece of jewellery. “Hey, you didn’t actually take her to the waterpark did you?”
“Of course I did,” he replied with a wink. “You think I’m going to go all the way to a mall and just shop?”
◆◆◆
It was just a small, family run diner roughly forty minutes north of the city. One of those old style ones that looks like it was designed to be retro, but in reality had just been around for so long without changing its appearance that it went from being modern, to outdated, to retro without a single renovation.
Late at night, and long after his shift supposedly ended, Detective Jeffrey Jones was driving down these back highways and finding this tiny diner to meet a woman because that was his job. And if he could prevent another woman from going missing by driving out here he was going to work all day and night. Without sleep if need be, which seemed to be the case more often than not. Bravado aside, he was starting to get too old for this job, like Danny Glover in Lethal Weapon. Funny, when he was a rookie he would identify with Mel Gibson’s character a lot more than he could now. Early in his career he was a badass. Now, he was Roger Murtaugh and getting too old for this shit.
He received a call from a woman earlier that day who seemed to know something about the killings and might be able to help him find the killer. She identified what Christine Rivers was wearing on the day she went missing, including exactly what kind of purse she was carrying. That last bit of information was not released to the public so it was either someone who knew her well or someone who saw her around when she died who made the call. Jones would be fine speaking to either. Anything to get a lead on this guy.
As he pulled into the snow covered parking lot, he grabbed his file from the car, locked up his vehicle, and then went inside. He wiped his feet on the mat, and looked around the café. It was exactly as he expected, aqua green cushions on every booth and each stool surrounding the counter, white tile flooring, and some art deco elements on the wall. There were two old couples in the booths, enjoying a late night meal and a handful of truckers grabbing a coffee from the stools.
Seeing no woman sitting by herself Jones grabbed an empty booth where he could see the door and spread out his documents. He had already eliminated any of the Uber drivers who drove a black Corolla since the company gave him that information and he talked to each and every one of them. None of them fit the description, or even were in the right locations at the time. Just as he had suspected, his killer was a phoney Uber driver.
“Would you like a menu, sir?” a plump, older waitress asked him as she sat down a glass of water on the table in front of him.
“No thank you ma’am, just some coffee please. Cream and sugar,” he replied head still down studying his documents.
As the waitress went to the back to get his order, he kept examining his papers looking for something to stand out and become that gotcha moment. As he read through his documents, the same question kept flooding his mind and drowning out other thoughts: What is a serial killer doing in Edmonton? It wasn’t a small city, it was big for Canadian standards but still nothing compared to some of the crime-filled cities south of the border. Sure, Edmonton has its fair share of murders, but they were usually gang or drug related. Or some of the local homeless getting in a fight for not paying their debt. There’s nothing like this… none of this serial type psychopath stuff.
Having no luck with just Ubers Drivers, Detective Jones went wider. He emailed Toyota Canada to see who owned a 2019 or 2020 black Corolla in the region. He got back two hundred names, which were a lot of people to interview, but with no other leads his next plan was to visit every one of the names on the list to see if any of them raised any suspicions. That would take up a lot of his time, so hopefully this woman could save him time which may also mean saving lives. If she ever were to show up again.
The waitress came back and gave Jones his coffee, which he sipped as he checked his watch. Ten minutes after nine, meaning that the woman was already late. He hadn’t run the number in the system yet (which he was beginning to regret) so he tried calling it but there was no answer. Not even a voicemail. He’ll have to run it though the system when he gets back to the office, but he was thinking that hopefully the woman that called him was still all right.
After he finished his second coffee and it was getting closer to ten than nine-thirty, Jones decided he had enough waiting for one night. Calling the number again made no difference so he motioned the waitress over to pay his bill. It was too late to start tracking down the names that Toyota gave him, but if he could get to bed soon he could wake up early enough to start first thing.
“Oh officer, it’s on the house for you,” she smiled. “Having to work so late at night in this cold, it’s the least we could do.”
Jones looked around. There was only one other couple, who were probably in their seventies, that was left in the restaurant. The truckers and the other couple had already left to beat the snow home. The place couldn’t be making that much money, and Jones knew at these little family owned restaurants it was usually the owner who was working this late at night. It reminded him that his wife was still waiting for him, though she was probably already fast asleep. A police officer’s wife gets used to late nights like this, and wondering if their husband would be coming home tonight.
“I appreciate it ma’am,” he said as he placed a twenty dollar bill on the table. “This is for the excellent service.”
Jones gathered his paperwork and stepped towards the door, thanking the waitress again and grabbing a mint for the road. He stepped back into the bitterly cold winter air as flakes of snow blew around his face and he could see his breath while his glasses fogged up. He knew there was a storm coming, but the forecast said it was still a few days away. Maybe they were right but the wind was telling him that they may be off by a few days. During the worst of the incoming storm he was scheduled to have the day off of work, but since this case was still live he was definitely going to be working from home. It was kind of annoying to work on his day off, but it was still better to work from home than to fight traffic during a blizzard. People forget how to drive.
Crack
Jones didn’t hear the shot ring out until he was already on the ground. Around the same time he heard the familiar crack of the exploding gunpowder he felt all the ribs on his body shatter as the bullet proof vest he was wearing smashed in to each one of them. The vest protected himself from the worst damage the bullet could do but it still felt like a bus hit him and the force of the impact made him slip and fall on the ice he was walking on. Almost immediately he was reaching for his sidearm, but then the second shot pierced straight through his body armour and into his right lung, bouncing off the back of his rear plate and ricocheting back through his body again. He heard the second crack but still wasn’t able see the muzzle fire to indicate where the shot came from. The pain was tremendous and he screamed as he reached over for his radio so he could make the “officer down” call.
Detective Jones never got a chance to make that call. As he was pushing down on the PTT switch of his radio, a third shot got him right in his face. He was dead before he even had a chance to hear the crack of the final bullet.
Hidden in a dark area across the street from the diner, in the parking lot of a closed mechanic’s shop, the passenger window of the Toyota Corolla rolled shut. The vehicle started up and sped away just as the fat waitress was running out of the store to see what happened. She may have taken a look at his car, but being black this late on a stormy winter’s night there was no way she would be able to tell what he was driving. If she knew what was good for her she would have stayed inside, but the driver had no time to take care of her as well so she was as lucky as the circumstances allowed her to be.
His current goal accomplished, he now had to go back and take care of Sophie. Turning on his windshield wiper he sped down the road and gently place the .308 hunting rifle on the
floor of the back seat.
It’s time to take care of Sophie.
Chapter 16
Plans Will Fail
Trying to track down a kidnapper is a killer on a legal practice. Especially when you’re a named partner. Baker was back in his office the following Monday and Ashley had just given him the stack of papers that’s been piling up since he first ran into Connie. There were motions, hearings, adjournment requests and settlement offers, all due either today, tomorrow or worst of all yesterday. As he was staring at the pile trying to figure out which one to tackle first, Ashley walked in carrying another manila file folder. Great, just what he needed.
“You know we do have some junior associates that work here, right?” she said dropping the file on his desk. “This is the newest disclosure package you got from the prosecutor’s office.”
“Thank Ashley,” he replied trying to now fit in this new work into the schedule in his mind. It was hopeless, he’ll have to be here all night to get it done. But this time… he just can’t.
Using associates was never Baker’s approach. Why have someone else do a worse job than what he could do? If you want something done right you have to do it yourself, not waste your time giving instructions to someone else and then have to redo their work when they’re done anyways. He didn’t know that some of the junior lawyers at the firm nicknamed him the “absentee mentor” because he often tells one of them that he wants them to be a junior on one of his files but by the end they never touch anything. They tend to go to the other partners if they want meaningful work.
But he couldn’t do it all this time so he’s finally going to have to ask for help. The unfortunate thing was that Baker really didn’t know how to ask the juniors for help (whenever one was assigned to one of his files it was always Sam that assigned them) so he drafted up a really quick list of the work that needs to be done and swung by Sam’s office.
