“Do you know how many roadblocks I blew up to get you the badge in the first place? And even after. To get you off the street and into major crime, I had to promise to resign if you fucked up. I threatened to pull out of the regional policing agreement just to get those fucking Mountie bastards to let you inside the task force. Now, you turn on me. You selfish bastard. What are you thinking?”
“Chief, this isn’t about you. It’s about my brother.”
“The hell it isn’t. It is about me, and it’s about your partner. What do you think Blair will think?”
“He’ll think I had his back.”
“Look, Cam, I know you’re hurting, but come on. We’ve both lost men in battle. It happens.”
“Greg wasn’t in the battle, Chief. Can’t let that go.”
“Goddamn it, Cam, this is the end of my career, not just yours. There has to be a way to change this. Just let me think it through. Call me in an hour.” He hung up before I could say no.
I didn’t want the chief to lose his job because of me. He had every right to be pissed, but I had to find the person who murdered my brother. If the Russian mob had ordered the hit, it would be beyond the chief anyway. My hands were shaking as I stuffed the phone back in my pocket and headed down the hall. Gunner, Snake, and Yves Laroche were sitting around the beer cooler when I walked into the main room. Laroche stood first.
“Well, look at you, little man. The fighter is back in the house.” He hugged me.
“Hey, Yves.” I slapped his back but couldn’t say anything more. My throat was too dry. I couldn’t sound nervous. I reached into the cooler for a beer. No Coke in the clubhouse. I’d have to be careful not to fall all the way off. I took a swallow to calm my nerves. “So, you here to celebrate with me?”
“It’s not that simple, Hammer. You are a policeman. Yet, here you stand in a patch. My patch. Not simple at all. Très compliqué.”
Long time since anyone had used my club name, Hammer. Had to be a good sign that Yves was using it now. I reached into the cooler, pulled out another beer, and handed it to him.
“Share a drink with a brother?”
“Your father saved my life. We are brothers till the grave, and I celebrate your return.” He took the beer. “But some of our bros in Montreal don’t feel the same. No history, you know.”
The Nomad charter is a strange beast in the Stallion world, and it was up to the Nomads to decide my fate now. Nomads had no ties to individual charters and no allegiance to me or the old man. A bunch of misfits, burnouts, and stone-cold killers would vote on my fate. Perfect. Over in Afghanistan, I recognized the Nomad swagger in the special-forces teams. As a sniper, my attitude fit just fine. Did I fit in now?
“It is what it is, Yves.” I took a long drink. “You told me when I left, this patch would always be mine to wear.”
“It is yours. Always will be. But there are those who believe it is time we bury you in it.”
Gunner started to stand, but I raised a hand, and he sat back down. This was Nomad business, and I had to hold my own.
“Maybe they should try. But tell them this: it won’t happen before I bury the people who shot my brother. Anyone who tries to stop me will fall. Remember, Yves, the old man was also Greg’s father. You tell our bros I am avenging the death of the founder’s son. The Nomad patch means nothing if the people wearing it stand in the way of that.”
Yves hugged me again.
“Okay, I’ll send the message. We will avenge your brother first. I just hope Gunner has only one to bury this week,” he said.
“Me too.” We tapped bottles.
“As long as we agree Greg’s death will be avenged, I need to ask you about the club’s ties to the Russians.”
He looked at me over the bottle and shook his head.
“This isn’t a cop asking, damn it. I don’t give a shit about any connections. My ol’ lady says the cops think the Russians put a hit on my old partner, and Greg got hit because he was there. Can you reach out? If it’s true, we want the shooters.”
“That I can do.” He smiled and took another drink.
Chapter 19
A small CD player played Christian rap, and Samuel sang along with every song. The beat was solid. Lolita would have to learn the words. Singing along with the Christians had to beat hip-grinding to Pac. She almost laughed at the prospect. Lolita, a real…no, not Lolita, Tatjana, a real preacher’s wife. She sat at the kitchen table, watching Samuel make lunch. The first meal in their new home, he said. He looked so natural working in the kitchen. That silly, maybe crazy, smile still there. It was as though Silent Sam, the kid she grew up with, was gone, replaced by someone else. It was fun to see this new Sam. Still, she knew they were from different worlds. Knew she had no place in this one, no matter what he said about God’s will.
The clean kitchen, the bright sunlight, the smell of fresh food, were sort of familiar, like a dream she could glimpse, in the morning, of her grandmother’s kitchen. She felt something wet beneath her eye and reached quickly to hide it. She licked the salty liquid from her fingers. When had she last cried? Fuck, she couldn’t remember that far back. At the ranch, probably. Funny, how thoughts of her grandmother could carry her back to before the ranch. The fresh-bread smell that never left Nanna’s kitchen. The gentle touch as she fixed Tatjana’s hair. She felt the smooth cotton of the sundress Sam had bought for her, just like the ones Nanna wore. He insisted she put it on as a symbol of their new beginning.
She could learn to make bread. Samuel would love that. A smile began to creep across her face as she played with the idea of staying. Fuck, it was stupid. A flash of anger forced her to her feet. What the hell was Samuel thinking? She didn’t belong here. She had to get out of here, had to take Samuel with her. Why did that idiot Jimmy Williams have to brag to her about killing that nosy Indian cop? He would tell the Stallion she knew. They would find her here. They brought her here to service that sick preacher more times than she could remember.
The reflection of light from the windshield of a car flashed from the driveway. She swallowed air. Could they be here already? No, too soon.
“Samuel, someone is here. Is it your mother?”
“No, her flight doesn’t get in until late. It’s probably someone from the church dropping by to offer condolences. It will be good for you to meet them.”
He rinsed his hands in the kitchen sink and dried them on a towel as he walked toward the front of the house.
“Come on, we will greet them as a couple.”
She smoothed the edges of the sundress again. It was loose fitting and dropped below her knees. It felt funny to be covered up like that. If only Sheilagh could see her in such a square outfit. She’d shorten it a bit for Samuel if she could just get him to leave with her.
He glanced out the side window as he reached the door and held up a hand to stop her.
“It’s Bobby.” He moved back from the glass as he said it.
Lolita looked through the window. Sure enough, the Mercedes they’d left in Halls Harbour was parking near the garage.
“It can’t be him. He’s dead,” she said.
They both watched a very-much-alive Bobby Simms step out of the car and head to the house. Red stains showed through a thick gauze taped to the side of his neck.
The midday sun pierced the canopy of leaves hanging over Waverley Road. Clouds of pollen floated and spun in brilliant yellow shafts where the sun broke through. Carla Cage drove toward Sandy Gardner’s home. She kept one hand on the bottom edge of the sun visor; it wasn’t low enough to block the flashes of sun. She fought the urge to call Cam. She would tell him what she found in the Escalade but didn’t want to talk to him just yet. Her feelings for him were confusing. He was good-looking and intriguing, but he was also a cop, and that broke her rule. Dating a fellow officer was a mistake she wouldn’t make again. Still, when she was w
ith him she couldn’t stop herself from flirting. It was embarrassing.
Of course, if he wasn’t a cop anymore…. No, this Satan’s Stallion thing was just a bruised male ego. An overreaction to being kept off the case. Cops were terrible for that kind of macho bullshit. He’d be suspended for it at the very least. If it turned out to be more, and he stayed with the club, he wouldn’t be a cop anymore. She could hardly get involved with an outlaw. She felt something when she kissed him, and it was more than the thrill of catching him off guard in front of his brother.
She almost rolled past the driveway. Cam was indeed a distraction. The yellow crime-scene tape and the command bus were gone. The Gardner estate was bathed in those same shafts of pollen-filled sunlight as she pulled into the stone driveway. The house sitting in the full light at the end of the drive seemed lost in a yellow haze. A Mercedes sedan she recognized sat in front of the garage. Samuel Gardner’s Ford Escape parked near the front door was a break. Two samples with one stop. Carla needed to pull carpet fibre in Sandy Gardner’s office to use as an elimination sample against some found in the plasti-cuffs on his body. She also needed a DNA sample from Samuel. There were eleven hair samples found in the office, and eliminating the three people who lived in the house would help. Tests were being run on hair from Thelma Waters’s body, no doubt she had been in the office too. There was too much evidence from the office, too many people had access to it. Still, she hoped the killer had left trace. Ruling out those who belonged would help. It was all just busy work. She could have sent any tech back out here. She just needed to stay active.
She parked beside the Mercedes and pulled out her cell as she sat behind the wheel. Texting Cam was the best approach for now. She had to tell him about the scorched MAC-10 and nine-millimetre shells she’d found in the burned-out Caddy. She still didn’t know how Cam had known where to find it, but she was glad he did. The MAC-10 had to be the weapon used in the attack on Blair and Father Greg. She wondered if reporting that to Cam was telling him something he already knew. Maybe his Stallion friends knew who the shooter was. She stared at the tiny screen, trying to decide how to start. Gun found in the Escalade would do it, but she wanted to put a tiny bit of personality in the text. A smiley face after the note was too much. “Dear Cam” wouldn’t work. “Thanks for the tip” felt about right. She started with that.
The kitchen felt smaller with Bobby Simms in it. He tugged at the edges of the bandage on his neck. Lolita looked at the blood, wondering how he would punish her.
“Well, don’t you two look like the perfect couple? That dress does you justice, Lolita. You should use it in the act. The whole schoolgirl thing is getting tired, and you aren’t exactly sweet and innocent anymore,” he said.
Simms sprawled in the chair Lolita had been in only moments before. Lolita leaned against the counter beside Samuel, her arms crossed. She eyed her purse on the floor, fighting the urge to run for it, grab the knife, and try again.
“I should forgive you for Saturday night, girl. If you forgive others their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. Isn’t that right, Samuel?”
Sam didn’t answer.
“I’ll tell you, I should, I really should. I know it. The flesh is weak, though, and I can’t get myself there. When I woke in that mud, I thought I was finished. Turns out the Fundy mud caked on my wound—miracle tides, miracle mud. A little divine intervention. Guess you didn’t cut anything important in there, sweetheart.” He smiled at Lolita. “Climbing up out of there, that was a real bitch, let me tell you. Then, I get to the top and you two are gone. Saw right away you took my church key ring, and I knew where you were going. Thank our Lord I kept the ignition keys in my pocket, or I would have been stranded there. I tried to catch up at the ranch, but I didn’t want to disturb the firemen.”
“What do you want?” Lolita asked.
“I want to sort this mess out with Sam before the police do. By the way, did you kill Sandy? You’re quick with the knife.” He touched the neck bandage again.
“She didn’t kill him. We found him. He fell or something knocked him over in that chair. God’s hand.” Samuel stepped away from the counter and placed himself between Lolita and Simms. His smile was gone, the sulking Samuel back. He looked so small. Even sitting in the chair, Bobby dwarfed him. Lolita moved up beside him and looked again at her purse.
“Really? God? I don’t know how it happened, but from what the cops are saying it wasn’t exactly godly.” Bobby stood and moved toward the coffee pot in the corner. Sam backed away. Lolita stayed.
“To look with lustful intent is to commit adultery. He who commits it shall be put to death. His spirit was filled with lust; he was struck down,” Sam said.
“I believe that passage refers to looking at another man’s wife. Not exactly what your father was into. So, tell me the truth, Sam, were you the instrument of God’s wrath? Give the chair a little push after he was hooked up, maybe?” He poured a cup and returned to his seat.
“No, I wish He had chosen me.”
“So it was you then.” He turned to Lolita as he sipped his coffee.
Lolita stepped closer to the table. Bobby had no right to ask these questions. If Sam had killed his father, he had every right, and it was no one’s business. Especially not this asshole. Suddenly, she wished the Stallion killers would show up. Gunner maybe.
“It was an accident. His chair fell over,” she said. “I found him, not Sam. I stabbed him to make sure, but he was already dead.”
“The mighty Sandy Gardner falls. That’s funny that he really falls before a simple stripper. How the hell did he end up in that garbage dump?”
“We took him to the clubhouse. I knew they’d help, but they were gone.” She wanted him to know she could go to the club for help. Hoping it would scare him.
“So why the dump?” Bobby sipped from his cup.
“We had to get rid of him somewhere. We were afraid the cops might pull us over or something. We couldn’t take him back here,” she said.
“I know Sandy had it coming, but that’s not much of a final chapter, is it? I thought about doing it myself from time to time. I prayed on it, but blessed be he who stands up under temptation.”
“Don’t mock scripture, Bobby. You were as much a part of his evil as the others. God will deal with you, too,” Sam said.
“Careful what you say about me, Sam. I had nothing to do with any of it. Man, I really bought your father’s saviour act when I was still in prison. Thought I was saved, and then I find out his church was knee-deep in that shit. Didn’t take me long to see who was calling the shots. I saw an opportunity and contacted some old friends. They put me on the payroll. All I had to do was babysit your father. Make sure he didn’t do anything to jeopardize what was happening at the ranch. Guess that gig is over.”
“For whoever knows the right thing to do and fails to do it,” Sam said. “That is your sin, Bobby.”
Bobby stood and moved toward Lolita. He brushed Sam aside and placed a hand on Lolita’s cheek. She pulled back, placed her own hand where his had been.
“No sin in sampling your wares now, is there?” He moved to the patio doors and looked out over the lake. Lolita eyed her purse. Bobby turned back before she could make a move.
“Here’s the thing, Sam. What happens at the ranch is not evil, not really. I couldn’t see it at first, but Pastor Sandy showed me. Look at the two of you. You are alive, healthy. You especially, Sam, living in this beautiful home. You would both be dead or worse, begging in the streets of some Third World slum if he hadn’t found you. The church saved you both. Just as it has saved hundreds of children just like you.”
“Saved us, are you fucking kidding?” Lolita’s hands shook at her sides. “Do you have any idea what they did to us?” Sam moved closer, put his arm around her.
“Most of the kids never saw the inside of the ranch. A few were chosen.
So what? Most go to great homes. Even you survived it, so no big deal, right? You two are the real heroes if you think about it, not Sandy. Martyrs, if you want to put it that way. What happened to you covered the cost of admission for the others. You paid a price, like Thelma, a true martyr to the cause.”
“We had nothing to do with that.”
“I know, Sam. That bit of work was beyond you. Thelma had to be sacrificed in a special way. The foolish bitch was going to tell the police everything. She thought Sandy’s death was a sign. She spoke to a few of us about it after the prayer vigil that night. No talking her out of it. Like I said, my job was to make sure nothing got in the way of the operation. I made damned sure her death was a sign to the others in this little church of ours. Their silence is proof that it worked. A little bit of overkill can go a long way in keeping squares quiet, don’t you think?”
Lolita could feel the tension in Sam’s arm as he pulled her tight. Could feel his body tremble. Maybe she was trembling.
“You know what’s funny? I won’t get caught. I did a hooker like that in my bad old days. Well, that’s kind of cold, she was sort of a girlfriend. Anyway, she needed killing. She was planning to rat, just like our Thelma. I wanted to give her a Colombian necktie, but I couldn’t quite get it right, so I developed my own silencer for rats. I hacked out her vocal chords. Did that to Thelma just to revisit the old thrill, you know. Back then, no cop ever looked at me. You think God was training me then, Sam? A little divine preparation for the day I had to be strong?”
“Why are you here, Bobby? What do you want?” Lolita demanded.
“I want this. All of this.” Simms gestured around the kitchen. “I am going to be the new voice of the Church of Salvation. The congregation already accepts me as a sign of Christ’s power. A prisoner saved. I can take that into the pulpit and rake in the money from the saved and the depraved. Forget the ranch for now, the donations from the TV show will keep us going. Later, maybe we start a similar operation at a new location.” He sipped his coffee. Placed the cup back on the table. “Speaking of killing, someone will be taking the fall for Sandy and Thelma. Lolita, you’ll just have to take one for the team. I’m afraid you are going to have to kill yourself back up in that office—same as Sandy—and the knife that killed Thelma will be in your purse when they find you.”
Disposable Souls Page 33
