by J C Paulson
*****
Joan Karpinski popped into his office with updates later in the afternoon.
Ashley Dunlop had not made bail. She freaked out in court, and Justice Deborah Lafond was forced to shout, “Remanded into custody. Get a grip on yourself, Mrs. Dunlop.”
Probing the tender spot on his shoulder, Adam had to admit the ruling made his day, to the extent possible.
“And Sherry Hilliard’s baby was Dunlop’s,” Joan said. “They’ve confirmed it.”
“Okay, thanks,” said Adam, somewhat absently. Somehow, it didn’t seem to matter anymore. Both Don and Ashley Dunlop believed Sherry’s child was his, and that was the point.
Adam roamed through files, stewing, trying to force his brain to concentrate, to put the pieces together. He tried not to will the phone to ring, with news from the officers in the boat.
Another rap, and James was at the door.
“I hope you haven’t forgotten about our pool party,” he said, sticking his head in.
“Shit. I haven’t. But I did forget to tell Grace.”
“Ah. Will you bring her?”
“Yes. It’s time.”
“Coming out, then?”
“You could put it that way,” said Adam, a thrill sliding up his spine. “I’ll call her right now. Thanks for the reminder. I’m a little distracted.”
“I don’t blame you. See you at seven-thirty or so?”
“Yes. Later, James.”
Adam dialled Grace’s work number.
“Babe,” he greeted her. “How’s work?”
“Fine. How are you feeling, Adam?”
“Sore. Okay. But listen, I forgot to tell you yesterday James and Bruce have invited us to their pool party tonight. The weather’s holding, so they’re going impromptu.”
“Us?” asked Grace.
“Yes,” Adam said, firmly. “Us. Would you like to go?”
“Yes. Sounds divine. A party with water.”
“I’ll pick you up at seven, if that’s okay?”
“Perfect. Will we eat there, then, Adam?”
“It’s a barbecue, too. See you later, beautiful.”
A party with water. Grace’s words chimed with Adam. With water.
And then the phone did ring, but it wasn’t a constable of the police service on the line. It was Jack McDougall.
“Jack. What’s up?” asked Adam, after the pathologist identified himself.
“Adam. We’ve found your victim.”
“What the hell? What are you doing out there? Where are you?”
“I have a cabin at Pike Lake. After I talked to you about where your victim might be, I decided to knock off early today, take a little canoe ride. There’s an area up the shore where an unused dock sits. The area was cleared to make way for it, but the owners never did build the cabin that was supposed to go with it. It’s quite secluded.
“There’s a very strange bit of growth there, Adam. Cattails and grasses. About five, six feet of them, in the middle of nothing —just sand and dirt. At first, I thought a poacher had maybe buried some remains. Now I’m sure your victim is there. Well, a victim, anyway. Your boys are digging now.”
“Are you shitting me, Jack?”
“No. I’d noticed it before, a few times, and thought it was odd. After our chat, it clicked. I thought, what the hell? There’s something going on there. Can’t hurt to check. Oh, just a minute, Adam. Jones is yelling at me.”
Adam could hear the pathologist yell, “What?” Then silence. Then, “A what? Okay.”
McDougall came back on the line.
“She’s pretty much gone, Adam. But there are fibres, like the ones we found on Emily Martin. And, there’s a ring in the grave. I’m surprised the murderer left it on her. Maybe it wasn’t on her finger, and she had it tucked away in a pocket or something. Anyway, it’s a signet ring. Initial A.”
Adam scrambled to grab Alexis Ironstand’s file. Flipped it open.
“Is it silver, with a tiny diamond set into the initial?”
McDougall hollered. Jones responded.
“Yes, Adam,” said Jack.
“It’s her.”
*****
The email came to reporters Grace Rampling and Lacey McPhail, city editor Claire Davidson and news editor John Powers of The StarPhoenix, at five o’clock.
The press release it contained had the names of Detective Sergeant Adam Davis and Chief of Police Dan McIvor at the bottom.
It said the Saskatoon Police had found a third body in the vicinity of Saskatoon, and they were now potentially seeking a serial killer. Circumstances led them to believe the same person was responsible for at least three and possibly four deaths. They asked women to take extra care in their daily activities, and also urged the public to continue to watch for a Porsche Cayenne, black, about two years old, likely with significant damage to the front of the car.
Here we go, thought Grace. She could feel Adam vibrating from two blocks away. Felt his sadness, his fury, his certainty; and started to worry about his hell.
“Holy shit. Lacey!” yelled Claire. “Did you see the release? Let’s go. Put a call in to McIvor. Grace, can you start pulling together the background? John, see you in Steve’s office in five, okay?”
Editor Steve Delaney, who had just presided over the four o’clock daily news meeting, looked up with surprise when Claire, John, Lacey and Grace churned into his office less than half an hour after it ended.
“Steve,” said Claire without preamble, “the cops have finally admitted they’re looking for a serial killer. They found a third body this afternoon.”
“Where?”
“They don’t say exactly; just in the vicinity of Saskatoon.”
“Bloody hell. Well, you know what to do. Do I need to call the press room?”
“No, I don’t think we’ll be late. A couple of interviews should do the trick; we have everything else. Lacey has already interviewed the family of Emily Martin, and unless we get lucky, like a call from the third woman’s family, we won’t get her identity until there’s an autopsy. We’ll get what we have online right away.”
“Okay. Get at it, team.”
Grace returned to her desk and texted Adam.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes,” came the response, a minute later. “At least we found her.”
“Incredible. Sending hugs.”
He had to go. His phone was already ringing off the hook, and he still had to call Alexis Ironstand’s family in North Battleford.
Chapter Thirty
The StarPhoenix, August 4, 20__
Online edition
Serial killer sought
By Lacey McPhail and Grace Rampling
of The StarPhoenix
Saskatoon Police are seeking a serial killer in the deaths of Sherry Hilliard, Emily Martin and at least one other local woman, the service said Friday.
Sherry Hannah Hilliard, 25, was killed in her home two weeks ago. Emily Elizabeth Martin, 19, had been missing for several months when her body was found by a woman walking her dog on the riverbank a few days ago.
During a planned search, police found the body of a third woman near Saskatoon on Friday afternoon. She has not yet been identified.
The killer may also have murdered a woman in Winnipeg, where police are looking for someone with the same modus operandi in the death of Della Delores Sinclair, 24.
All four women were very similar in appearance, including their height, weight and general colouring. They were between the ages of 19 and 25.
“We extend our deepest sympathies to the families of these women,” said Police Chief Dan McIvor. “We are throwing all our resources behind finding this killer.
“However, until we find him or her, we must advise all women in Saskatoon and area to take the greatest care while participating in all activities.”
Detective Sergeant Adam Davis, lead on the case, said he could not give any new details because they might jeopardize the investigation.
<
br /> “I would like to ask everyone in Saskatoon to continue to keep their eyes open for a vehicle we believe is involved in one of these murders,” he said. “This is a newer Porsche Cayenne SUV, black in colour, likely significantly damaged. It may, of course, have been repaired by now. But it’s a crucial piece of this investigation.”
While the police had not yet positively identified the third woman found Friday, Davis added, they had spoken to the family of a woman who disappeared more than eighteen months ago.
*****
Adam’s eyes were ringed with lines of fatigue when he came to gather Grace at eight. Grace didn’t feel fantastic, either. It had been a wild three hours for both of them, although much worse for Adam.
“Do you still want to go to the party?” Adam asked Grace, after they embraced at her door.
“Not particularly,” she admitted, “but we should go. First, we have to eat. Second, it’s James and Bruce. Third, maybe it will relax us a bit.”
“Okay. Let’s go for a while.”
“Have you spoken to the family of the third woman?” Grace asked.
“Yes,” said Adam, and his head went down.
“Adam, I’m so sorry. That must have been hard.”
“Not a fraction as awful as it was for them.”
Adam had called the Ironstand home, and reached Alexis’ mother. As gently as he could, he told Martha Ironstand they thought her daughter had been found. She dropped the phone, and Adam could hear her weeping, could see her on the floor in his mind’s eye. God, he wished he didn’t have to tell her. He took a breath.
“Let’s go, Grace, if you’re ready.”
He wasn’t sure if he was. But Grace was right; they had to carry on.
They climbed into Adam’s old BMW and headed out to James and Bruce’s spread. James answered when they rang the doorbell, also looking haggard. He hadn’t had time to change yet.
“Come in, come in,” he said, sounding very tired. “What a rotten day. How are you holding up?”
“Beat,” admitted Adam.
“Beat,” echoed Grace, “but not like you two. And you have to play host,” she said to James, with sympathy.
“I’ll be fine. Do you feel like a dip first? We just started the barbecue.”
“Perfect,” said Grace, nudging Adam, who nodded vaguely.
Once in the back yard, where perhaps twenty people milled around or splashed in the pool, Adam stripped off his shirt and headed for the diving board. Every eye — heterosexual and gay — followed his six-foot-two sculpted form. He was, thought Grace, as beautiful as a man could possibly be.
She watched him, mesmerized, as he dove cleanly into the pool, swam a few strokes, then came up shaking the water from his hair. He called to her, and held out his hand.
“Grace, come in. Come in with me.”
A bit shyly, since she was in a new crowd, Grace removed her cover-up to reveal an aqua and black one-piece, and saw Adam’s eyes darken.
She dove in, and met Adam in the middle of the pool, somewhere on the edge between shallow and deep. He kissed her quickly, and slipped his hands around her waist.
“You look incredible,” he said in her ear. “I could eat you alive. Let’s get out of here as soon as possible.”
“You do too. Look incredible,” she said. “Like Michelangelo’s David.”
“Hardly,” said Adam. “But thanks, Babe.”
“Idiot,” said Grace. “If anything, you’re more beautiful. You still have no idea, do you?” She looked around. “Every single person here watched you walk to the pool and dive in. Every single one was salivating. They wanted to lick you.”
Adam stared at Grace.
“Believe it, lovely man,” said Grace.
“Not as beautiful as you.”
“Wrong. But let’s swim a bit, before burgers, and before I can’t help but make love to you right here.”
Adam’s eyebrow went up; Grace smiled and swam away from him.
Afterward, they pulled shirt and cover-up on and joined James at the barbecue, where he was madly turning burgers and steaks.
“Can I help?” asked Adam. “You need a drink.”
“How good a cook are you?” asked James, warily.
“He’s very good,” Grace testified. “Wonderful steaks.”
“Okay. I’ll be back in five. Thanks, Adam.”
But Adam did rather absently flip the chunks of meat, prompting Grace to give him a poke.
“Pay attention,” she said, gently, grabbing some tongs to help.
As they tended the barbecue, Bruce wandered over with a glass of wine in his hand, and gave Grace a hug. Bruce had found Grace bleeding in an alley near the city’s gay club that March, and possibly saved her life. Now, they were the best of friends.
“So great to see you, Grace,” he said, as she awkwardly hugged him back with one arm, the other engaged in helping Adam with the meat.
“So great to see you, Bruce,” she said. “Lovely party. Oh, there’s Charlotte,” she added, spying Adam’s colleague and waving. Charlotte came over, also with a quick hug in greeting.
Soon, there was a growing, hungry group around the barbecue, chatting, laughing and drinking wine and beer. People grabbed plates and piled them with green salads, artisan breads and baby potatoes, then came over to be served off the barbecue by Adam and James.
Bruce had gone off to talk to Nick Delacroix about his Audi, until James yelled at him to get back to work.
“Coming,” Bruce said, laughing, and shrugging at Nick.
“I’ll come with you,” said Nick. “Getting hungry.”
Relieving Adam so he could get some food, Bruce introduced him to Nick.
“We’ve met,” said Adam. “Good to see you again.”
“And you, Detective. Or would Adam be all right in this environment?”
“Of course. How’s business?”
“Well, I’m not selling a lot of Cayennes,” said Nick. “Thanks to you guys.”
“That’s interesting. Why, do you think?”
“Buyers think they might be mistaken for your killer.”
Adam took a bite of his steak, and mulled that over. “Have you sold any in the last couple of weeks?”
“Sure. Two. It’s not like the whole city would be out buying Cayennes, anyway. They’re not cheap, as you know, but that’s still a bit light.”
Adam’s face became suddenly serious. He steered Nick slightly away from the crowd.
“I need those buyers’ names, Nick,” he said. It dawned on Adam the SUV used in the crime might not be Don Dunlop’s. He doubted it, but it had to be checked out.
The car dealer appeared to understand immediately.
“Okay. Call me tomorrow. I’ll be in until three.”
“Thanks. Oh . . . watch out,” said Adam, grabbing Nick’s arm. Nick had taken a step backward, toward the pool; he was wearing dapper slacks and a perfectly-pressed shirt, hardly dressed for a dip. “Don’t fall in.”
“Shit,” said Nick, breaking into a sweat. He shook off Adam’s grip, but a moment later smiled ruefully. “Sorry. Embarrassing.”
“Didn’t come for a swim, obviously,” said Adam, in reference to his attire.
“No. Not big on the changing and being wet all night in a crowd. Came straight from work, too. Still, these are great parties. Can’t resist. Do you want another beer? I’m buying,” he quipped.
“No, thanks. Driving. I think Grace has had a couple.”
Adam put his plate down on the nearest table and went to find Grace, who was deep in conversation with James, Bruce and Charlotte. Adam smiled and spirited her away toward the bar, making noises about a fresh drink.
“Are you almost ready to go, Grace?” he asked. “I’m beat. And I want you to myself.”
“Whenever you’re ready, Adam, I am,” said Grace, looking into his eyes.
His low voice dropped another half an octave. “Let’s get out of here.”
*****
Grace
called Suzanne as they left the party, and confirmed she was doing fine.
“I think I will go to Adam’s for a while,” said Grace. “I’ll see you later?”
“Depends how late you get back,” said Suzanne. “But I’ll be here.”
“How was your meeting with the new client?”
“Fine, merci. As first meetings go.”
“We’ll have to chat about it tomorrow. Thanks for understanding.”
“Of course, chère amie. See you soon.”
Adam was unusually quiet on the way back to his condo, and Grace let him be, wondering if his mind was going over the case or if he was simply blasted from the long day.
The condo had returned to its tidy, plate-glassy state; Adam had pitched the broken chair and made sure no evidence of his fury remained.
“Would you like a glass of wine, Grace?” he asked, once within.
“No, thanks, Adam. A shower, maybe?” she asked, feeling the film of chlorine on her skin. She wanted Adam to kiss it, but only if it was clean.
He nodded, took her hand, led the way, and turned on the shower. Once under the water, Adam soaped Grace from neck to feet, slowly, saying nothing. He was in an enigmatic mood; so she returned the favour quietly, trying to match his stillness, his state of mind.
Towelled and fresh, they slipped into bed. Grace lay softly against him, waiting for a clue, and he began to stroke her gently, running his hands slowly down her arms, her sides, her stomach. He reached her breasts, and continued his slow, ruminative caresses.
After a while, though, Grace was thoroughly aroused and had to break the quiet.
“Adam,” she said, panting a bit, “are you all right? You seem distracted, a little. Whereas, I am not.”
“Grace, I’m so sorry. I am a bit distracted. I was thinking . . . it’s not the same, here. I much prefer making love with you at your home. I can’t explain it.”
“Perhaps we could dive into that conversation later? For now, let me see if I can temporarily change your mind.”
Grace curled herself on top of him and began to kiss him everywhere. She slipped his erection inside her; but Adam soon turned her on her back, entered her slowly, and gently moved his hips, ensuring his pelvis met hers. It was slow and dreamlike and very different from any other encounter they had had, and Grace was finding it not just erotic but emotionally moving. Rising and falling, then straining and crying out; the orgasm shook her to the core. Adam came to her a moment later, burrowing and holding her hard.
