by K T Brodland
One eye on Olivia, who was making her way through the crowds heading out of the building, Cat interrupted Jean in mid-sentence. “Sorry, but I have to catch up with Olivia.”
But Jean was not easily deterred. “What’s with you two these days? I usually see the pair of you together or at least within hailing distance. When she blew by here a minute or two ago, she barely managed to say hello.”
Her chance to have a word with Olivia slipping away, Cat shook her head. “It’s a long story.”
“Make it short then.”
Cat huffed. “Some other time, Jean. I really have to go.”
It was too late, though. By the time she reached the revolving doors and was out on the concrete steps leading down to the street, Olivia was nowhere in sight.
Chapter Thirty
O livia wasted little time in getting back to the farm. She had managed to avoid running into Cat, even though they were in the same courtroom. At least she was able to get out of the building before Cat could catch up to her. She’d even sidestepped Jean and Pat Wallace. She’d been in too big a hurry to stop and talk to them. In any case, she had nothing to say to either of them.
She parked the Mazda, headed upstairs to change out of her pantsuit and put on jeans and a t-shirt. She sat on the edge of her bed for long minutes, thinking about the end result of Rhode’s and Winter’s trial. Except for the actual sentencing, the courts might be finished with them, but she wasn’t. She’d managed to access the coroner’s report and all the other documents pertaining to their arrest and trial. Rage still consumed her whenever she thought about what had happened to the Wilkes brothers at R’s hands. Smitty, the kid she’d caught coming out of the mobile, had gotten off easy compared to the boys. Based on the post-mortem, he’d been dead for several hours and his body was covered with multiple bruises and there were fractured ribs and other broken bones. She tried to ease her conscience with the thought that he had suffered far worse at R’s hands than he had at hers.
Even so she wasn’t surprised that Cat no longer wanted anything to do with her. Not after that little performance she had put on with Smitty. She scrubbed at wayward tears that threatened to leak from her eyes, then headed toward her office. She had work to do.
Later, she made her way downstairs and brewed a cup of coffee and took it into the living room. She glanced around the space, absently noting the new furnishings that had been delivered three weeks earlier. Not that she really cared. Not anymore. Not as long as she still had work to do. She wasn’t finished with the Alphas, not by a long shot.
She was about to head back upstairs when her laptop chimed. When she turned it around so she could see the screen, there was Mary Jelinski’s beaming face looking back at her. In the background, Olivia could just make out a hospital bed.
“Hi, Mary. To what do I owe this honor?”
Mary stepped to one side, revealing her beaming daughter, holding a tiny infant in her arms. “Hi, Olivia! Meet your god daughter, Olivia Barbara. Isn’t she precious?”
Since all Olivia could see was a scrunched up little face, she was at a loss for words at first. “Yes,” she finally managed. “When did all this happen? I thought you weren’t due for another two weeks.”
Trish giggled and gazed down at her newborn daughter, love in her eyes. “That’s what we all thought too. Apparently, Olivia had her own ideas on the subject. So, she arrived at three in the morning, all six pounds, three ounces of her.”
“Well, I can see congratulations are definitely in order.” Olivia stared at the image of mother and daughter on her monitor, a lump in her throat. She swallowed hard before speaking. “Tell you what, Trish. You need time to get used to the idea of being a mom. Rather than me coming up to Edmonton right now, why don’t you and your mother plan to come down here for Thanksgiving? I can put the three of you up so you can stay for a couple of days. That way you can relax, enjoy all the well-wishes that will be coming your way.”
“Oh. That would be awesome, Olivia! Thank you ever so much.”
Mary added. “That would be great. That’ll give me a chance to organize time off from work.”
“So, it’s settled then. I’ll see you in October.”
Trish was clearly beginning to fade, and the baby was fussing. Mary stepped in and said goodbye, for both of them. Trish blew a kiss toward the screen, then turned to tend her little girl.
“Oh, by the way, thanks once again for the money you gave me at the restaurant,” she said, before ending the call. “It was generous of you. Came in real handy too, as we barely made it home before the car broke down. Needed a new radiator hose and there was a leak in the radiator as well. So, thanks, otherwise I’d have been hooped without a way to get to work. The rest will go nicely toward getting new clothes for Trish and outfitting the baby.”
She paused, then added. “You know we can never repay you.”
“I wasn’t expecting to be repaid, Mary. Just take care of yourself and your family.”
“I will. Bye. Chat again soon.”
Olivia remained where she was for a few minutes longer, gazing at the blank screen, thinking about how fortunate Trish was to be back with her mother. There were so many others who didn’t fare as well when they ended up on the streets, homeless and with no family to turn to. She was glad she still had the means to save another girl like Trish from those who preyed on the children who had lost their way.
Chapter Thirty-One
O livia almost ignored the text message that appeared on her phone a few days later. She recognized the number, but hesitated, her finger above the message icon. It was some time since she had spoken to Cat and she wasn’t sure she was up to any possible hostilities. Of course, the beauty of a text message was being able to ignore it. However, she supposed she could get it done. She was taken off guard when the message was simple and direct.
The funeral for the Wilke’s brothers is being held at Forest Lawn this afternoon at three o’clock. Let me know if you want a lift.
Thank you, Olivia texted back. I will meet you there.
She waited to see if there was more to the message, but the call ended and she was left sitting there, staring at her phone. She glanced at her watch. First order of the day was to gather up the results of her online searches and save them to an external hard drive. There was more than enough time afterward for her to shower, change into something appropriate, then drive to the cemetery.
On the drive to Forest Lawn, Olivia debated back and forth as to what she would say to Cat if they happened to meet up. She shook her head as if to clear the cobwebs from her brain. Just play it by ear , she told herself.
Once she arrived at the cemetery, she quickly found a space overlooking the grounds and settled in to watch the proceedings. She had her binoculars trained on the area where the funeral was about to take place. Three cars away she could see Cat with her camera aimed out the passenger window at the hearse that was already proceeding slowly along the driveway. Right behind the hearse was a long line of high-end vehicles, any one of which probably cost three or four times the price of her Mazda. She located the silver Porsche she had seen at the Wilkes’ place. Two RCMP cruisers pulled into the vacant spaces in the parking lot across from the cemetery’s lush green lawn, but the officers remained in their vehicles. No doubt backup was ready to show up at a moment’s notice if there was any trouble. Where gangs were concerned, that was always a possibility. Even at a funeral.
She swung her attention back to the phalanx of black-suited men stepping out of their cars and proceeding toward the site of the actual internment. Once there, they formed a solid wall around the gravesite, blocking her view of what was taking place. Not that she needed to see what was happening.
Fortunately, the internment was brief and in short order the mourners dispersed. Olivia suddenly swung her camera in the direction of a figure she recognized as William Underwood. Online photos of him were few and far between and she was surprised he would actually appear at the funeral of
a couple of low-level kids. Did he really care about what happened to them? Or was he merely putting on a show, a warning to anyone else who didn’t follow his orders. She managed to get several photos of the imposing figure before he was flanked by two men, effectively cutting off her view of him. She continued shooting, endeavoring to get as many head shots as possible before the crowd dispersed to their waiting cars. Out of curiosity, she aimed her camera at the RCMP cruisers. Two of the constables were prowling the parking lot, snapping pictures of license plates. Jean happened to look in her direction, did a thumbs up gesture. There was movement beside Jean and Olivia caught a brief glimpse of Pat Wallace in the passenger seat. Her phone beeped. She glanced at the text message from Jean. ‘Coffee later?’
She caught Cat looking in her direction but busied herself putting her camera back in its case. A coffee shop was the last place she wanted to have a confrontation with her.
“Thanks, but I’ll pass. I’ve work to do.”
She backed that up by making a speedy getaway. By the time she pulled into her driveway she already had a headful of ideas as to how she was going to spend her time for the next little while. As soon as she was settled in her office, she uploaded the images from her camera onto her computer. Starting with the head shots she had taken at the funeral, she ran them through facial recognition. She soon had a stack of printouts beside her keyboard. She did the same with William Underwood, except his data went into a separate pile. She’d go through that later.
She tapped her fingers on the desk, thinking about Robert Rhodes, wondering who was going to replace him as the gang’s enforcer. No doubt someone was being groomed for that position already. She chuckled, wondering how R was enjoying prison life. He had been sentenced to life in prison with no chance of parole for at least fifty years. She took a quick peek at his file. He was in general population, which pleased her no end. When she checked further, she was surprised to learn that he hadn’t had a single visitor since his incarceration. Not even Underwood had come by to see his former enforcer. She took note that some of the other prisoners had latched onto him, acting like glorified groupies. She’d have to do something about that. She didn’t want him enjoying himself too much.
She tapped her finger against her upper lip, then an expression crossed her face that Cat would have recognized as meaning somebody was in deep trouble.
She took another look at his file, then made a few judicious entries regarding his preference for little boys. That should liven things up a bit. Pedophiles did not do well in prison.
Reminded of the way the brothers were treated, she dug a little deeper to see what she could find out about one Peter Smith. The Wilkes’ brothers were the only ones buried so far. She was surprised to learn that, on his parents’ orders, Smitty had been cremated and there hadn’t even been a memorial service for the lad. That didn’t sound as though the Smith family was particularly close. For that matter, she wasn’t sure if the senior Wilkes had been present at their sons’ funeral. Made her wonder if that estrangement was what led to the boys joining the Alphas in the first place.
Slowly shaking her head, feeling saddened at the tragic end of those young lives, Olivia leaned back in her chair and began leafing through the files she had printed out earlier. The one she had on William Underwood kept tugging at her, demanding her attention. Finally, she pulled it close and started reading.
By the time she came to the final page of what little was known about Underwood, she’d come to the conclusion that, much as she disliked field work, she was going to have to dig a lot deeper. She could access his computer easily enough, but she needed to get up close and personal to really learn more about the man and his organization. It was too easy for Underwood to use codes in his emails between his underlings. She needed to hear actual conversations if she was going to track down his suppliers. For that she was going to need sophisticated equipment, but she couldn’t just call Cat and say, ‘Oh by the way, do you happen to have a directional mic laying around that you don’t need?’
No doubt Cat did have one, but she couldn’t bring herself to call, not with the way things were between them. She sighed and searched for suppliers of surveillance equipment.
Chapter Thirty-Two
C at examined the stack of mail pushed through the mail slot and shook her head. She really needed to get someone in to take care of the day-to-day running of the office. She flipped through the flyers, glanced at the cover of a magazine for private investigators she subscribed to. She put it aside to read later.
Going through the rest of the mail, her hand came to rest on a large yellow envelope. The return address was a senior village in Logan’s Landing, some fifty miles north of Kelowna. Her curiosity piqued, Cat ran her fingers over a bulge in the envelope, then used a letter opener along the edge of the gummed flap. She tipped the envelope up and a second, smaller envelope slid out along with a folded sheet of paper and a four by five black and white photo of a teenage girl. Cat picked it up and studied it carefully. The girl appeared to be about sixteen and the frown on her face made it clear that she was not impressed by having her picture taken. She was pretty enough in a girl-next-door way. Cat flipped the photo and read the inscription on the back— Molly, August 1981 .
She set the photo aside and unfolded what proved to be a handwritten letter addressed to:
Dear Ms. Harris:
I know this is probably not the way you normally do business, but I don’t drive and depend on friends or volunteers to get me back and forth to doctor appointments in Kelowna. I can only hope you will hear me out and not dismiss me as a batty old woman. To begin with, my daughter disappeared more than thirty years ago after an unfortunate incident took place in our home.
Cat snorted. An unfortunate incident, eh? That could be a euphemism for just about anything. Must have been pretty bad though to drive a teenage girl from her home for that many years.
When I was in Kelowna two weeks ago, I thought I saw Molly get into a blue pickup truck in a parking lot. When my friend and I stopped at one of the lakeside parks I happened to notice the name on your office window across the street from where we were parked. When I got home, I made some inquiries and was told you were the best in the business when it came to tracing missing persons. I am not even certain the woman I saw is my daughter. People can change so much over the years. I just had to take a chance, though, that it was her. The only thing that makes me think the woman I saw was my daughter was her long white hair. She had honey-blonde hair up until she was sixteen then it turned. I don’t have much money, but I will pay as much as I can if you are willing to take on my case. I can be reached at the phone number I have included. I am home most of the time. If not, please leave me a message and I will get back to you as soon as possible. I know I haven’t provided much in the way of information to go on. Someone told me there is a way to enhance a photo to show a person’s present age. The picture I included might prove useful. She was eighteen when she left home, so she was a little bit older than she is in the photo.
Thanks in advance
Sincerely
Elsa Lundgren.
Cat noted the phone number provided, set aside the letter and studied the image of Molly again. There was only one woman she knew of who fit that description and who owned a blue pickup truck. She put the letter back in the envelope and sat there staring at the photo, trying to grasp the implications in Elsa Lundgren’s request. Olivia had never been one to go into details regarding her past prior to arriving at the farm thirty years ago. If she was indeed the missing daughter, what had happened back then?
She glanced again at the phone number Elsa Lundgren had provided and decided to call her later and see if she could get a little more information beyond what was provided in the letter. Then she would decide if she would take the case. First up, though, was to scan the photo and run it through the age-enhancement program. Once that was done, she sat there, elbow propped on her desk, her chin cupped in her hand and stared at the ima
ge on her monitor. It was grainy and the hair color was darker, but otherwise she could be looking at Olivia’s twin. She exhaled softly, then hit the print button.
The printed photo in hand, she carried on an internal monologue.
Here comes the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question. Assuming Elsa is correct and the woman she saw two weeks ago is her missing daughter, what do I do with this information? If this was any other missing person case, I wouldn’t hesitate to start the ball rolling in the effort to find him or her. But we are talking about someone I used to consider a friend. Given Olivia’s reluctance to talk about her past she could take great exception to learning someone was looking for her .
After a while Cat decided to phone Ms. Lundgren, see what else she could find out about the unfortunate incident she had mentioned in her letter. She’d also like more personal information about Molly. Then she’d decide how to proceed.
She read through the letter once more. She tapped her pen on the desktop, then pulled a notepad close before dialing the woman’s number. The phone was picked up almost immediately.
A quavery voice answered. “Hello.”
“Could I speak to Elsa Lundgren?”
“Speaking.”
“Cat Harris here. I received a letter from you this morning, asking for my help in finding your missing daughter.”
“Oh, thank you for calling. I hope the photo I included was helpful.”
“Yes, it was as far as giving me an idea what Molly might look like now. However, I would like some additional information about her before I can proceed.”
“Of course, but first could we discuss your fee?”
Cat already had the answer to that one. “I occasionally do pro bono work, so consider this one on the house. Before I pursue a case that may be nothing more than a case of mistaken identity, I’d like a great deal more information. I’d like to meet with you later this week. Would Thursday morning work for you?”
