“I did. The investigation had moved on, no one was taking Carla’s concerns seriously.”
“That wasn’t your call to make, Constable Marlowe.” He wasn’t angry.
“I know.”
He paused. She didn’t say any more, and he went on.
“And now you’re saying Randolph West did track down his mother and daughter within days of being released on bail.” Marley nodded, wishing this was over. The pause stretched, but Marley refused to blink. “Your concerns were validated.”
It was a trap. “It doesn’t excuse my breach of protocol.”
“You are correct. And that will be addressed.” Crawford picked up Marley’s annual review report again, then very deliberately moved it to the side. “I’m putting this review on hold for now, in light of current events.”
“I found some evidence,” Marley blurted out before he could finish his sentence. “Just now. It links Aimee to Randolph’s drug business.”
Crawford barely blinked at Marley’s revelation. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
Marley described the homework she’d found. “I think Aimee was an active participant in the drug trade, not just a kid living on the periphery. Carla’s been worried about why Randolph would have taken Aimee in. She’s always suspected he used her in some way.” The thought made her sick. She remembered Aimee’s fear and shame yesterday at the sound of her father’s voice. But she held on to the image of Aimee jumping in a puddle today. She was okay.
“And Randolph making the effort to track her down supports the idea that Aimee has information he doesn’t want anyone else to have, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, sir,” Marley said, grateful he’d arrived at that conclusion on his own.
Crawford picked up the phone on his desk and punched in an extension. “Simms, meet me and Marlowe in the seminar room.”
Marley felt tired as she traced her route back to the seminar room. She hung back as Crawford updated Simms, glossing over the fact that Marley had known where Aimee was this whole time. Simms’s eyes grew wide, and his expression went from confusion to excitement.
“Sweet Jesus, we’ve needed this lead,” Simms said. He pulled the French test out of the box and glanced at the addresses. He frowned. “I don’t recognize these addresses, but I’ll get on it right away.” He looked up at Crawford. “It would be good to talk to the kid. Let’s get all the information we can get.”
Marley felt her hackles rise, the worry in her stomach changing instantly to protection on a wave of acid and adrenaline. Crawford didn’t even look at her when he spoke.
“Marlowe and I will follow up regarding Randolph’s daughter. You focus on the addresses for now, and then we’ll reconvene.”
Simms looked surprised. Crawford was never actively involved in investigations. But he said nothing, just glanced at Marley and said, “Good find. We’ll stay in touch, keep each other in the loop.” And then he was gone.
The seminar room felt ominously silent as Crawford looked at the log sheet, running his finger down the long list as if trying to glean if anything had been missed. After a few minutes, he seemed satisfied and looked up at Marley.
“Disobeying a directive in an investigation is problematic, Constable Marlowe.”
“Yes, sir.”
“It will need to be addressed.”
“I understand, sir.”
He paused. “We’ll address it in your annual review. After this investigation.”
A temporary reprieve, but Marley would take it. “Thank you, sir.”
“Dr. Wolfe is a trained psychologist, is she not?”
Marley blinked at the sudden change in topic. “Yes, sir. She works with the trauma unit at the hospital.”
“And she already has a rapport built with young Miss West?”
“Yes.” Marley felt a cold sweat on her back, even though she knew this was coming. Even though she knew it needed to happen. Aimee would have to be questioned, and Devon’s involvement would have to be made permanent in the official record.
For the first time since landing in his office, Crawford’s expression softened a fraction. There was an understanding in his eyes, of knowing how hard this was, how much it was going to hurt. Then it disappeared.
“The girl will need to be questioned,” he said. He waited for Marley to nod. “I’ll make the call to F&CS myself, and I will get in touch with one of the psych people on our roll.” He paused again. “I’ll leave it up to you to discuss what’s coming next with Ms. Slessinger and Miss West. Why don’t you take the afternoon and do that while I arrange for questioning?”
“Yes, I can do that.”
“All information comes through me, Marlowe. I’m not suspending you from the investigation, but you have lost the right and privilege to make decisions on your own moving forward. All evidence, all information, any suspicion you have will come directly to me. Have I made myself clear?”
Marley had to clear her throat before she answered. “Perfectly clear, sir.”
Marley gripped the back of a chair, feeling suddenly exhausted as Crawford walked to the door. He paused, though, before he opened it and turned back to Marley.
“I’ve always admired the care you take with people, Constable Marlowe. Colleagues, citizens, suspects. It’s your strength in this job, but don’t let it become a weakness.”
And then he left. Marley collapsed into the chair, putting her head in her hands. She didn’t know if what she’d heard was a compliment or an admonishment. All she knew was that her worry was heavy and she was so very tired.
* * *
Devon glanced at the short text conversation on her phone for the fifth time. Marley had texted half an hour ago.
Updates. Okay if I come over?
Of course. What updates? Need a ride?
Have my car today. See you in half an hour.
It didn’t escape Devon that Marley had ignored the question about updates. Maybe some kind of police protocol, though Marley had never seemed too worried. Which meant maybe now they had something to worry about.
Devon stood from where she was sitting in the living room, Carla and Aimee both reading on the couch, though Carla seemed to be napping more than reading. Unable to sit still, Devon walked back into the kitchen where she could see onto the street while she started dinner. The chicken was already marinating in the fridge, so Devon began cutting peppers, onions, and zucchini for the skewers. She heard the splash of tires through puddles and looked up to see a dark blue SUV pull up outside her house. A moment later, Marley appeared and headed toward the house.
Devon met her at the front door. Marley looked pale again, tired. And distant.
“Hey,” Marley said. She pushed a strand of wet hair off her face and tucked it behind her ear.
“Hey, yourself. I’m just getting dinner started.”
Devon began walking back to the kitchen, then stopped when she realized Marley wasn’t following her. In fact, she wasn’t even moving.
“You okay?”
Marley stared for a moment, and Devon wondered if she was going to answer the question.
“I can’t get my boots off.”
Devon glanced down at Marley’s lace-up work boots. “Hurts to bend over?”
“I wanted to drive today, so I didn’t take my pain meds.”
Devon walked back, then knelt in front of Marley and began untying her laces. Marley held still, not even a self-deprecating joke to ease the slight tension of the moment. Devon touched the back of Marley’s calf as she loosened the laces as best she could. She looked up.
“Can you pull them off yourself?”
Marley began toeing off her now-loosened boots. She grunted softly with the effort, and Devon held out an arm. Marley gripped it and finally succeeded in taking her boots off. She sighed and dropped Devon’s arm.
“Did you want to take a pain pill? I can drive you home.”
Marley shook her head. “They make me loopy. I need my head clear.”
�
��For updates,” Devon said.
“Yes,” Marley said.
She seemed so distant, it made Devon uncomfortable. She didn’t want to push. She understood needing barriers and guards. But she needed to make sure Marley was okay.
“We’re in this together, okay? Remember that.”
Marley closed her eyes and seemed to take a steadying breath. Her expression had softened a little when she opened her eyes.
“It’s about to get messy.”
Devon smiled a little. “We always knew it would.”
Marley returned the smile. It was a tired smile, a hurt smile, a worried smile. But it was Marley’s. “Yeah, I guess we did.”
This time Marley followed her back to the kitchen where Devon washed her hands and finished cutting the vegetables. Marley considered the high barstools against the counter before lowering herself into a dining room chair at the table near the window.
“You guys had a good day?” Marley said.
“A good day,” Devon confirmed. “Aimee found all the puddles between here and Cambridge Street. Carla got three newspapers and actually had some time to read them, so she was happy.”
“They seem okay after yesterday?” Marley said.
“Aimee had some definite moments of quiet, where she disappeared inside herself for a while. But nothing overly worrying.”
“And you?”
Devon glanced up from coating the vegetables with olive oil and spices. “Me?”
“Unexpected house guests, tangled up in a police investigation, bad guys showing up.” Marley seemed to swallow. “Taking care of me. How are you?”
Such a simple question, Devon thought. And such an odd sensation to have someone sitting in her kitchen asking it. Expecting an honest answer. An in-depth answer. Devon had no idea if she was capable of giving one.
“I’m good,” she said, looking back down at her task. “I like being useful. It feels like a long time since I’ve been useful. And I enjoy these two. They’re fun to have around.”
Marley smiled. “They are.” She seemed to be waiting for more.
“I’m worried. About them and about you. Whatever updates you’re bringing. But I feel solid.”
She swallowed the unease as the words left her mouth. It felt like a burden she was passing off, this acknowledgement that sometimes she wasn’t solid. That some days were hard. The anxiety in her chest mounted until she took a breath and glanced at Marley. She didn’t look burdened. She didn’t look concerned. In fact, she smiled.
“In this together, remember?” Marley said.
Devon blew out a breath and gave a short laugh. “Yes, I remember.”
A moment later, they heard voices and Aimee’s thumping, running feet as she flew into the kitchen. Carla followed, moving much more slowly than her grandchild.
“Hey, Squirt,” Marley said.
Aimee waved and jumped up on one of the barstools, spinning herself in circles.
“It’s her favourite feature of the house,” Carla told Marley drily before turning to Devon. “Can I help with dinner?”
“Maybe you can make some rice while I cook the skewers in a bit? Everything is marinating, so there’s nothing that needs to be done right now.”
Devon looked at Marley, who gave a slight nod.
“I have something I need to talk to you all about,” Marley said. Aimee stopped spinning and Carla looked curious. “I was wondering if we could have a family meeting.”
Carla put her hand on the back of Aimee’s neck on her way to the table. “Come on, child. Family meeting means everyone needs to listen.”
Devon wiped her hands and picked up a pad of paper and pen on the way to join them at her dining room table. It seemed crowded, so many bodies in the space she usually occupied alone. She put the paper and pen in front of Aimee, who immediately started doodling.
“I talked to my boss today at work,” Marley started. Devon could tell she was choosing her words carefully. “I told him you guys were staying here with Devon for a little while until you decided where the best place to settle down with the Squirt urchin would be.”
Aimee stuck out her tongue.
Carla cleared her throat. “Your boss wasn’t…” She glanced at Aimee, who was still doodling. “He didn’t seem concerned we hadn’t gone back up north?”
Marley tilted her head back and forth. “His concerns have to do with me and how I’m sharing information. His concern for you and Aimee is that you are safe and taken care of.”
“I don’t want to get you into trouble,” Carla said, her voice gruff. She glanced at Devon. “Either of you.”
Aimee had stopped doodling and was looking around at the adults.
“We’re good, Carla,” Devon said. “We’re going to talk and eat supper and make a plan. No one is going to get into trouble.”
“Agreed,” Marley said. “Okay?”
Carla waved her hand for them to continue, concern evident in her annoyance. “Carry on.”
“Aimee, do you remember the day I met you at the police station?” Marley said.
Aimee nodded, her little body tense.
“Do you remember someone asked you some questions about how you were feeling and about your dad and where you lived?”
Aimee nodded again.
“We need to ask you some more questions.”
Devon appreciated Marley taking this slow, allowing Aimee time to process. Not because Aimee was slow, but because she needed time to absorb the impact.
Aimee turned the page on the pad of paper and drew a large question mark and turned it to Marley.
“Are you asking what kinds of questions?” Carla said to her granddaughter.
Aimee nodded, her eyes never leaving Marley.
“Questions about where you lived, what you did at your dad’s house, jobs you had, who you talked to.”
Aimee gripped her pen and held very still.
“Aimee?” Devon said and waited until the girl had turned toward her. “Can you tell me people you feel safe with? People you know will look out for you and worry about making sure your head and heart are okay.”
Aimee pulled the paper back toward her and began writing. Devon looked up at Marley. She seemed pale and worried. Devon tried to give her a reassuring smile before Aimee pushed the paper into the centre of the table.
Marley read out the list. “Grandma, Marley, Devon, Miss K, Mrs. Townsend.” Marley pointed at the last two names. “Are those teachers?”
Aimee nodded.
“My grade three teacher was one of my favourite people in the whole world. Mrs. Cunningham. She volunteers at the library now. Maybe we can go visit her there sometime.”
A light briefly surfaced in Aimee’s eyes. Then it dimmed and she flipped back to the page with the big question mark. She tapped it and looked at Marley.
“How do you feel about someone asking you questions?” Marley said. “Possibly someone who isn’t on your list of people who make you feel safe.”
Aimee shrugged. She seemed lost for a minute, like she disappeared inside her head, something she’d been doing on and off all day. Then she looked around the table and drew the pad of paper toward her. She drew out the letters of what she wanted to say very slowly this time. When she turned it around, Devon felt her heart drop into her stomach.
Randolph is gone?
Devon noted she referred to her dad by his first name.
Marley shook her head. “No, buddy. Randolph isn’t gone. We’re…” Marley trailed off, clearly unsure what she should say. Devon didn’t know either, but Carla jumped in, pushing Aimee’s chair so they were facing each other.
“Remember we talked about how your dad made bad decisions and hurt some people? He broke the law.” Aimee looked scared. “He knows better, and the police are there to make sure he won’t do it again. And that means they have to investigate and make sure they have all the information. I’m guessing you might have some information because you lived there with him.”
“
You won’t get in trouble, Squirt,” Marley said softly. “Not for anything you say, not for anything you’ve seen, not for anything you’ve done. I promise.”
Aimee looked at Marley with such hurt, and Devon felt sadness surface before she pushed it back down.
Marley stretched her hand across the table toward Aimee and left it there. After a moment, Aimee put her small hand in Marley’s. Aimee glanced around the table and gestured at Devon and Carla.
Carla laughed and put her hand in as well, and Devon covered the three with her own hand. Then she felt as Aimee lifted all their hands in the air, like a team cheer. They all laughed, a smile finally surfacing on Aimee’s face. Then Aimee flipped to the question mark page of her paper, pushed it toward Marley, and nodded. Then she tapped her chest, hugged her shoulders, and leapt out of the chair and back on to the barstool, spinning madly.
“Guess our family meeting is adjourned,” Carla said in her rough voice, but Devon thought she looked more relaxed.
“I think that’s the cue to start cooking,” Devon said.
“I’ll help,” Carla said, pushing herself out of her chair.
“And I’ll…sit here and try not to fall asleep on your table?” Marley said.
Devon thought Marley looked drained. She was pushing herself too hard.
“How about I find something comfier for you to wear? And maybe you can take a pain pill?”
“I’ve got my car here.”
“We’ll figure that out later,” Devon said. “One thing at a time.”
“Yeah,” Marley said. “One thing at a time.”
Dinner was a team effort. Marley, in a soft pair of Devon’s sweatpants and a T-shirt, kept Carla company in the kitchen while Aimee held an umbrella for Devon, who barbecued the chicken and vegetables skewers in the rain. Having Aimee outside meant Marley and Carla could talk more openly and more specifically about Randolph and the investigation. They all met at the dining room table again, passing food and commenting about the weather system moving in. Aimee demonstrated her best puddle splashes from their earlier walk to Marley, who laughed.
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