by Ken Ogilvie
Jackie paused. What else? Ah yes, clothes. Upstairs, a large closet yielded a pair of loose-fitting but comfy corduroy slacks and two wool shirts. She shed her prison clothes and donned one of the shirts, which hung loosely off her slender frame. From under the bed, she hauled out a battered suitcase which she stuffed with underwear, a hand-knit sweater and a thick blanket. She dragged the bulging case downstairs. The fireplace had some kindling in it, so she burned her prison clothes.
In a closet in the front hall, Jackie found a hunting jacket with a matching red cap. She put these on, glanced in the hall mirror and laughed. What did she look like? Still chuckling, she emptied the wife’s purse onto the dining room table and thrust a set of keys and a small amount of cash into the jacket pocket.
She left the house and went to the garage. There, a dirt-encrusted Ford F-350 waited, just begging to be taken. One of the keys fit the ignition, and she fired up the massive vehicle and reversed it from the garage. Leaving the motor running, she hurried inside, hauled out her loot and flung it onto the rear seat of the truck.
She needed to get on. Time was passing. She took a last look round. What else? She was just about to leave when she spied a computer resting on a small corner table. Maybe she could find Rebecca’s home address in Orillia. It was worth a try. Jackie almost ran to the computer, which didn’t require a password. There was the address. Elated, she thundered down to the basement to make certain the wife was still secure.
The woman was slumped forward against the ropes. Something was wrong with her. Jackie edged forward and felt for a pulse. Nothing. She had unleashed too much energy. Pity. She hadn’t meant to kill her.
She trudged back up the basement steps, amazed again at the strength of this power of hers. Could she do it again? To Rebecca Bradley? Better than a knife attack, but then there’d be no blood to look at, and she wanted that.
Jackie abandoned the house and scrambled into the truck. It was time to resume her journey northward.
Chapter Four
One year to the day since I started work with the OPP — it’s hard to believe time passes so fast. Routine constable duties are weighing me down, and I’m getting more and more anxious to become a detective. I haven’t finished enough courses, but I’ll keep at it until I’m done. Anyhow, I’ve been told I’m too young and inexperienced to get a position in the Criminal Investigation Branch, so there’s nothing for it except to keep plugging away and scheming about getting the job I want.
— From the diary of Rebecca Sarah Bradley (June 4, 2004)
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Rebecca sped into the OPP lot in Orillia and came to a stop. DI Sykes was standing outside the admin building, issuing orders. The search for Jackie Caldwell was primed to go, with the Emergency Response Team settled in their armoured van and several squad cars lined up, engines revving. A handler and search dog from the Orillia Canine Unit were standing by, and Rebecca recognized Bob, as well as Charger, his German Shepherd, from the Abigail McBride investigation.
Rebecca leapt from her car and rushed up to Sykes. She looked at him hopefully.
Sykes gave her a wry smile. “Yes, DC Bradley, you’re coming with me.”
Her face lit up. “Thank you, sir.”
She hurried to his unmarked car and slid onto the back seat beside Hadi Jafari. In the front, hunched over the steering wheel, Chad Williams emitted a surly grunt. He didn’t turn round.
DI Sykes settled into the passenger seat. They were off.
Hadi said softly, “We’re heading to the back roads north of Highway 401. Jackie Caldwell escaped at about 11:00 a.m. and drove up Highway 25, avoiding the 401. She took a prison guard named Ramona Ramirez hostage and used her Honda Civic. She must have moved onto smaller roads somewhere past the town of Acton. The highway cameras lost track of her after that point, although there’s a helicopter checking the roads. The squad cars are patrolling the area too, so far with no luck. She might be as far north as Georgian Bay by now.”
“Is she armed?” Rebecca knew what he would say.
“Unfortunately, yes.” Hadi sighed. “She took the guard’s Taser. We don’t know if she has a gun, but we think that’s unlikely, from what the prison staff told us.”
“Knowing Jackie, if we don’t catch her soon the bodies could pile up.” Rebecca slumped into the seat and stared out the window.
Sykes raised his voice over the noise of the engine. “If we don’t find her north of Acton, we’ll head to Conroy. My gut tells me she’s heading somewhere near there. We’re patrolling the Trans-Canada and other highways, but our resources are stretched thin and there’s too many back roads and farm lanes. She could’ve slipped past. I have a bad feeling about this. I think we may be in for the long haul.”
“I assume that Constable O’Reilly’s been informed.” There was a slight tremor in Rebecca’s voice as she recalled the surly local constable.
“Of course,” Sykes retorted. “O’Reilly’s called a public meeting for this evening, and he’s telling everyone he meets to watch out for Jackie, although I doubt she’d be reckless enough to go into town.”
Rebecca leaned forward. “Where do you think she’ll hide?”
“In the woods,” Sykes said. “And from what I know of her, she’ll have plenty of places to choose from. She’s been going out hunting around Conroy for more than two decades and knows the area like the back of her hand. O’Reilly claims she’s an expert shot. He’s seen her knock five cans in a row off a tree limb at a hundred paces. Anyone within two hundred yards of her could be in danger, which will be impossible to avoid in the woods. If she gets her hands on a rifle, we’ll be in big trouble. For that reason, I’ve asked for a sniper to join us, but Superintendent Cartwright hasn’t got back to me yet.” Sykes snorted derisively.
“Just great,” Chad muttered.
* * *
After a fruitless search around Acton, and then north towards Georgian Bay, Sykes told Chad to stop the car. He got out and crunched along the gravel road, head bent forward in his characteristic thinking pose. When he returned, he said, “The search around here will continue, but without us. We’re heading to Conroy. I’m convinced that Jackie got through our net. Bob and Charger will come along and we’ll try to pick up her trail there.”
Sykes slammed the car door shut just as his cellphone rang. His brows knit. Call ended, he turned to the detectives. “The hostage is thirty miles south of here. She has a head injury and was out cold for a couple of hours. She found her way to a county road a short while ago, just before 2:00 p.m. A driver pulled over to help her and called the police. We’ll go there now and see what we can discover. Jackie ditched the Honda and might be on foot. On the other hand . . .” He didn’t finish the sentence, although everyone knew what he was thinking. The local people had to be warned, and then panic could set in.
Chad raced the car to where the prison guard had been found. Bob met them there at 3:15 p.m. He said Charger should be able to track Jackie’s scent from the passenger seat of the Honda.
Rebecca’s heart began to pound. Jackie had several hours’ lead on them, and anything might have happened in that time. She might have kidnapped someone on the road and hid in their car, stolen a vehicle from a local household, or found some way to throw the search dog off her trail and hole up in a remote house or barn. They had to get moving.
Chapter Five
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Kingsley McBride rapped on Tony Albertini’s office door and winced. His knuckles were swollen — arthritis for sure. He’d have to see a doctor about it. He had too many ailments for a man approaching his mid-forties. At this rate he’d die young or be crippled by his sixties. He needed to retire early, and in comfort.
“Enter.” Tony sounded somber. The solid oak door to his office was thick enough to stop a bullet. Inside, Tony sat in a massive swivel chair with his back turned, staring out the window. He didn’t even look round.
Kingsley waited anxiously for a
few seconds. He cleared his throat.
Tony spun his chair about and glared at him. “What the hell’s going on, bro?” He was angry alright. “Calling up a hit man’s heavy shit, you know. That kinda thing could get me put away for life.”
Kingsley swallowed audibly. “I understand the risk, Tony, but you don’t know that woman. She’s out to get me. And she will, if I don’t find a way to get to her first. Please do this for me. It’s the only time I’ll ask for anything like it, I swear.” He almost dropped to his knees.
“Sonofabitch.” Tony balled his fists and levelled an icy stare at Kingsley. He leaned back in his chair and gazed at the ceiling.
Kingsley’s gut was churning. He mustn’t push things. Tony was smart, and highly volatile. He might not help, although Kingsley figured he would. Tony was struggling, he could see it.
Tony laced his fingers together and pushed his palms outward. Like dry branches, his knuckles cracked. Then he slapped his hands on the desktop and shot to his feet. “Alright, dammit. I’ll see what I can do. But you owe me big time, bro.” His expression softened and he stretched out his hand. They shook warmly. Tony gave him a brotherly smile. “What the hell,” he exclaimed, and rounded the desk to embrace Kingsley, who returned the hug awkwardly. He didn’t like touching people.
* * *
Three hours later, an old-model brown Ford Taurus emerged from the underground parking lot beneath Tony’s office tower, driven by a swarthy man dressed in a shiny black suit and a red silk tie. He motored east out of Hamilton, driving below the speed limit, eventually heading north on Highway 400. He went all the way to county road thirty-four, where he found the dirt road he’d been told to follow to a large meadow. At the end of this road, he got out of the car and looked around. No one about. From the false bottom in the trunk of the car, he removed a Glock. This hit was going to be an easy job. Some small-town woman who Tony Albertini said was a threat to the syndicate’s new accountant — what a wimp. Frightened by a librarian — really. The contract was an insult to a pro like him, but he needed the money. He hadn’t even bothered with a proper disguise, like a hunting outfit or work clothes. Instead, he’d dressed as an old-time Hollywood hit man. Boy, did he ever love those vintage shows. He chuckled to himself. Just wait till the bitch saw him!
From his suit pocket, he pulled out the hand-drawn map the wimp had thrust at him. His stubby finger traced the route through the forest to the cave he’d been instructed to find. He crossed the meadow and found a narrow path leading into the bush. Still smarting from the insult of this Mickey Mouse assignment, he decided to make a noise to draw the woman out. More likely it’d scare the wits out of her. Librarian. Hah!
* * *
Ensconced in a sheltered cave in the forest north of Conroy, Jackie finished her meal of roast beef and home-baked bread, courtesy of the farmer’s wife. She regretted killing the woman, and pitied the children who would come home to find their mommy gone forever. She knew what it was like to have no mother. But these kids had a father they could depend on — not like hers, that burnt-out husk, nothing but a burden until the day he died.
She lounged on the giant trestle bed, brought here by Hound, who’d turned this secret place into his private refuge. Little did he know that she had discovered it long before then — on the day she shot her husband in the clearing outside the cave. Something about the bushes obscuring the cleft leading into the cave had captured her attention, and she had pushed through the bushes and followed the short tunnel to a dark cavern. In the flickering light of a match, she saw that someone had chipped away at the walls until they were almost vertical. The place had figured in her life a second time, when she and Kingsley brought Freddie Stafford there in order to kill him. It had been a huge mistake, resulting in her capture. So why had she returned to this strange cave a third time? It had come into her mind as somewhere to hide from the police while she fled north, and suddenly she’d felt compelled to see it again. Her biggest concern had been finding a place to hide the Ford, but she’d found a secluded spot in the woods.
Jackie wondered how Hound had managed to find the cave. She knew about his passion for tracking, but the cave was well hidden. Hound was a mysterious person. She had always felt edgy around him. Perhaps he’d been drawn here, like her. Did that mean they were linked in some way? She had a feeling that Hound had the power too. Maybe that was why he made her so nervous.
Jackie shrugged off the thought and tried to focus on her desperate situation. She was vulnerable here. She decided to chance a single night. Tomorrow, she would go somewhere the police would never find her. She couldn’t shake free of the notion that Hound could find her wherever she went, and she became increasingly worried that he might even come here tonight. Well, if he did show up, she could always shoot him. With a hand that trembled, she drew the rifle close.
She considered her next moves. First, was the job of killing Rebecca Bradley. She now had Rebecca’s address in Orillia. She liked the idea of finishing the whore off in her own home. It would be fitting retribution for the way Steven Bradley had destroyed her own family. She was savouring this delicious thought when she heard a sharp crack coming from somewhere in the forest not far from the cave. She sat up with a jolt. Was it a deer or some other large animal? Hound? No, he wouldn’t blunder about like that, especially if he was coming after her.
Jackie checked her rifle. It was loaded. She sprang to her feet, ran along the tunnel and crouched down inside the thicket in front of the cave. The bushes were rustling. Whoever it was had to be heading her way, and it definitely wasn’t a wild animal.
She abandoned the thicket, crept into the shelter of the trees and watched the clearing. Seconds later, a man in a shiny black suit crashed through the bushes and stepped into the open. Jackie couldn’t believe what she was seeing. What was he doing here, dressed like that? Of course. Kingsley had sent him to kill her. There was no other explanation. Kingsley was the only person she’d told about the cave. He must have guessed she would come here. Pity she loved him so much, she’d never be able to bring herself to kill him. Then it crossed her mind that she might have to.
Black Suit strutted into the clearing. He had a gun in his hand. He disappeared into the thicket at the entrance to the cave. He’d know she’d been there, he’d see her things all heaped in a corner. And what would he do afterwards? He’d likely wait for her to come in so he could shoot her.
But that wasn’t going to happen.
Jackie licked her lips. Alright, she’d wait for the idiot to tire of waiting and plug him the moment he came out. But what if he remained in the cave overnight? She would be left outside in the cold. No, she had a better plan.
He’d have arrived by car and parked at the meadow, where the dirt road ended. If she lured him from the cave and he came after her, she could turn the tables on him. It would be more exciting than dropping him the instant he stepped into the clearing. There was no sport in that.
Jackie stroked the rifle barrel and smiled. She would have to be careful though. Black Suit must be a professional killer, even if he looked like a fool. There’d be no second chance if her first shot missed or she only wounded him. Still, it would be nice to see the shock on his face.
Jackie ran into the woods, where she fired off two shots into the air. A few seconds later, the man poked his head out of the thicket. He no longer looked so smug.
Jackie made her way to the meadow.
Chapter Six
Christmas is only a week away. I dread going to Prospect and seeing Dad. It’s been half a year since I was last there. We’ve only talked once in the past three months. We’re drifting so far apart that it’s hard to know what to say to him. I’ll do my best to bridge the gulf, but I still need to find out what he knows about Mom.
— From the diary of Rebecca Sarah Bradley (December 18, 2004)
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Ramona, the prison guard, had her head wound attended to, then she offered to lead Sykes and his
team to the spot where Jackie Caldwell had left her. Rebecca stood at her side, comforting her while Sykes and Hadi checked out the surrounding bush. The search dog and his handler were raring to go, and Chad was hovering a short distance away.
“Okay, team,” Sykes declared, “time to get on the trail.” He gestured at the Honda. “I hope the scent from the passenger seat will be strong enough for Charger to pick up. You’re in the lead now, Bob.” He turned to Ramona. “Miss Ramirez, we can’t thank you enough for your help. Officer MacLean will be here very soon and he’ll take you to Milton for further assessment. We’ll get your car back to you after examining it for evidence.”
Ramona leaned against Rebecca and held onto her arm. Rebecca felt she really ought to remain with her, but right now all she could think of was capturing Jackie Caldwell. Luckily, MacLean arrived as she was debating with herself.
* * *
Charger barked and strained at his leash. He had traced Jackie’s scent to a nearby creek, where the search team took over, following her footsteps along the muddy bottom. When the footprints left the water, Charger picked up the trail again.
