by Garry Ryan
McTavish looked inside of the room, then over his shoulder. They could read the puzzlement in his eyes.
Harper leaned his head to the left.
Lane went to stand behind McTavish, who stepped inside the bedroom.
Inside the room was one mattress with two pillows on the floor. Next to the mattress, a pink running shoe lay on its side.
McTavish asked, “What is this child’s running shoe doing here?”
The door opened too easily, Lane thought. He looked at the casing and spotted something jammed in the mortise. He pointed at it.
McTavish leaned to take a closer look. Then he looked at Lane and frowned.
Harper looked at them and opened his left hand as if to ask, What’s going on?
McTavish put his finger to his lips. He held up the running shoe to make sure that Harper could see it.
Harper blanched and nodded.
McTavish said, “The place is empty except for you, Daryl.” With his free hand, he motioned that Harper and Lane should wait in the living room.
Lane resisted an impulse to kick Daryl in the ribs as he walked past.
Harper cocked his right leg to kick Daryl. Lane shoved Harper, who stumbled into the living room. Daryl sniffed.
McTavish tried the door of the next bedroom. He opened the door and looked inside. He waved at Lane and Harper to come and take a look.
Another mattress was close to the door. The rest of the room was stacked floor to ceiling with cardboard boxes. McTavish hauled one down and opened it. He held up a wad of cash and waved it. “Room is filled with boxes.” He lifted his chin and indicated they should leave the apartment.
Lane and Harper went outside and down the hallway. Harper asked, “What did you see?”
“The bedroom’s empty. You saw Jessica’s pink running shoe. It was on the floor. It looks like Matt’s phone on the table. And there’s something jammed in the mortise so the door wouldn’t lock.” Lane leaned against the wall. “I don’t know where Matt and Jessica are.”
Harper put his free hand on Lane’s shoulder.
McTavish opened the apartment door while keeping his gun trained on Daryl. The sergeant said, “He says he doesn’t know where the kids are. Said the kids were there this morning. Seemed real surprised the room was empty.” With his free hand, McTavish reached for his phone and pressed speed dial. “With all of the cash in that room, this place is going to be real busy, real soon.” He lifted his chin to indicate that they should leave, then spoke into his phone. “Hello. It’s McTavish. I need the Forensic Crime Unit.”
“Arthur? It’s me.” Lane thought, What do I say to him?
“What’s the matter?” Arthur asked.
“I . . .” Lane followed Harper across the street as they headed back to the Jeep.
“What? Tell me!” Arthur said.
“They weren’t there. Matt’s phone was there. Jessica’s running shoe was there. Someone had jammed something in their door to keep it from locking. The guy who was guarding them was surprised the kids weren’t in the room. I don’t know where they are right now!” I can’t think, Lane thought. I need to think and I can’t!
“Pull it together, Detective,” Arthur said.
Lane was sure there was a smile behind Arthur’s voice. Lane thought, What’s the matter with him?
“What does the evidence tell you, Detective?” Arthur asked.
“They escaped?” Lane opened the passenger door and climbed into the Jeep.
“You bet they did.”
Harper started the Jeep. “Of course they escaped. Matt jammed something into the lock and walked them both outta there. Now, where did they go?”
Mary had Joshua snugged on her right hip and two plastic shopping bags in her left hand. She put the bags down to open the back gate.
“There you are,” Kev Moreau said.
Mary recognized the voice and reached for the gate latch.
“I wouldn’t do that.”
Mary turned and held Joshua close to her side.
Kev stood on the back door step. Dee Dee stood behind him.
“I’m leaving this place. You have nothing to fear from me,” Mary said.
Kev stepped down and stood on the lawn with his hands on his hips. Dee Dee remained on the steps with her arms crossed under her breasts. She was smiling.
Kev held his hands open.
Mary saw the gun in its holster under his left arm.
“It’s not that easy. Things got complicated after you killed Pike.” Kev took one step closer.
“He was going to take Joshua. Just like the two of you took Zander.” Mary saw Rita walking down the side of the house with the shovel in her right hand. Moreau had his back to Rita.
Kev drew his gun and pointed it in Mary’s direction. “See what I mean about things being complicated?”
“Yes, that means I get a two-bedroom apartment instead of one,” Dee Dee said.
Kev turned and fired.
A red mark appeared on Dee Dee’s forehead, and she took a step back.
Kev shot her in the heart.
Dee Dee bent at the knees and fell sideways into a shrub.
Kev turned to face Mary. “Put the boy down on the grass. If you hadn’t told me what you know about Zander, I might have let you walk.”
Mary moved to her right and sat Joshua down on the grass. She retreated from her son. “How did Russ die?”
“He got in the way of Rowe’s knife,” Kev said.
“So, you used him as a shield.” Mary watched as Rita moved closer to Moreau.
“That’s why this needs to be done. You know too much and ask too many questions. Women like you always ask too many questions.” Kev raised his pistol.
A whistle of steel cut through air. Kev started to turn his head. He heard a moist thunk as the shovel blade chopped through flesh and bone. Kev’s head flicked to the right.
Mary stared at Moreau.
His face paled. The gun dropped from his useless right hand. He reached over with his left hand, trying to pull at the shovel blade embedded between his neck and shoulder. “Wait a minute,” he said to Mary. “Just wait there.” His right hand flopped and swung uselessly at his side. He turned to face Rita, who had picked up his gun and was pointing it in his general direction.
“I’ll take that.” He took a step toward her.
Rita stepped to her right.
Moreau stumbled forward, turned to follow her and — as he did so — continued to pull at the shovel with his left hand. “Why did you do that?”
Mary wondered at the offended bewilderment in Kev’s voice.
He dropped to his knees. “I don’t even know who you are.”
Rita leveled the gun at Moreau’s face. “I’m Candace Barnett’s aunt.”
“Candy’s aunt. How is Candy?” Moreau put his left hand out to keep himself from falling sideways.
“Haven’t seen her in years,” Rita said. “She was another woman who asked too many questions, remember?”
Mary saw that Joshua had spotted a dandelion and was crawling toward it. She went to pick him up.
“What did you hit me with?” Moreau asked.
“A shovel.” Rita kept the gun aimed at his eyes.
“You’ve got to be joking.” Then he did something that left both women looking at each other with bewilderment.
He began to laugh.
The Jeep rolled out of the valley.
Harper’s phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and handed it to Lane.
“Lane here.”
“Simpson. We have a report that Detective Saliba has been shot and is requesting assistance. Will you two move on it?” he asked.
“What’s the location?” Lane asked. How did he get this number?
Simpson read the address to Lane, who relayed it to Harper.
Harper turned onto Crowchild Trail and accelerated.
What the hell happened to Keely?
Arthur wrote the grocery list for Daniel and pushe
d a credit card across the table with his free hand. “Take this.”
Daniel took the card. “I’ll take my phone just in case you think of anything else.”
“You go with him.” Arthur pointed at Christine.
“But we don’t know where they are,” Christine said.
“We do know where they’ll be headed. They were being held maybe five kilometres from here,” Arthur said. “And I know when they get here we’re all going to need something to eat.”
“Go on, we’ll be here.” Erinn looked at Arthur with a mixture of hope and dread.
Matt sat Jessica down on a bench toward the top end of the paved pathway leading up out of the river valley. He sat down beside her and looked further up the path where it wound its way into an established neighbourhood. Mature trees on either side of the path provided shade and cover.
They sat and watched a pair of boys race down the hill on their bicycles.
“I’m tired.” Jessica held up one dirty-socked foot, rested it on Matt’s leg and brought up the other foot with its pink running shoe. She rested her head on the back of the bench.
“Me too,” Matt said.
“I want to go home.”
“Me too. So, let’s get going.”
Jessica reached up, and he lifted her onto his shoulders.
Mary looked at the scene from the back of a police cruiser. Joshua slept beside her on the seat. She kept one hand on his head.
Mary could see the back of Rita’s head as she sat in a cruiser further down the street.
A Jeep pulled up and parked next to her. Two men got out and ran toward a woman on a stretcher, who was being loaded into an ambulance.
Lane found Keely on the stretcher in the back of the ambulance. “What happened?”
Keely tried to lift her head. It was wrapped in white gauze. Her face was streaked with blood and tufts of her red hair were matted with it.
The EMT — whom Lane knew to be the mother of three — put her hand on Keely’s shoulder to keep her horizontal.
“This is ridiculous. I was wearing a fucking vest!” Keely said.
Lane climbed into the back of the ambulance while the EMT put an oxygen mask over Keely’s mouth.
Keely pulled the mask off. “They said some woman killed Moreau?”
“With what?” Lane asked.
“A shovel,” the EMT said.
“Are you kidding me?” Keely asked. “I want to meet this woman. I mean, after the bastard shot me, the least I could do is thank her.”
The EMT shook her head. “You can thank her later. We’re taking you to the hospital. The bullet hit your vest very near your heart. You need to see a doctor. Besides, that scalp wound will need stitches.”
“It didn’t hit my heart, it hit my boob!” Keely rubbed her breast. “Shit, that hurt!”
The EMT looked at Lane.
“Better get her to the hospital,” Lane said.
“Can’t be soon enough.” The EMT smiled.
Lane backed out of the ambulance and into Harper.
“She okay?” he asked.
Lane nodded. “Yes. I think she’s at the tail end of an adrenalin rush. What happened back there?”
Harper looked at the open front gate of the women’s shelter. “Two bodies in the backyard. One of them is Moreau. Face down in the grass. Looks like someone buried a shovel in his shoulder or his neck — hard to say which. The other body is an unidentified female. Fibre is on his way.”
“Hey! Shut the doors, will you?” The EMT sat down next to Keely.
Lane grabbed one door and Harper the other. They closed and locked the back doors of the ambulance.
The ambulance’s lights came on and it slalomed around the police cruisers and their flashing lights.
“Keely’s okay.” Lane looked at Harper.
“You said that. Now we have to find Matt and Jessica. Where the hell would they go?”
Lane looked at the ground and tried to think.
“You’re always telling me that you like to walk the dog in that part of town. Where the hell would you go? You’re the fucking detective,” Harper said.
Lane thought for a moment. “There’s a trail that runs up the north side of the river valley. Come on! Are you going to drive or stand around asking me questions?”
Jessica locked her fingers at the base of Matt’s throat. He carried her piggyback while he walked over the bridge crossing Crowchild Trail.
Matt looked ahead.
“Are we there yet?” Jessica asked.
“Another half an hour.”
“My arms are tired.” Jessica tucked her head against his shoulder.
Harper drove the Jeep up the pathway on the north side of the river.
An approaching cyclist came around the corner and was forced onto the grass. His mouth formed a curse that became unintelligible as he bumped over the uneven surface and past the Jeep.
“What happens if we don’t find them here?” Harper asked.
“Then we head back to the river and work our way west.” Lane pointed ahead.
A woman — pushing a stroller almost as wide as the Jeep — shoved her child off to the side of the trail and shouted, “Motherfuckers!”
“Friendly bunch,” Harper said. “These are your neighbours?”
Robert Rowe rested his elbows on the concrete wall of the pedestrian bridge running between Edworthy Park and the north side of the river. He stood between two circles in the cement. Each circle was inlaid with parallel lines of wire. Below him, the Bow River ran east. He spotted the shadow of a trout idling behind a rock. The green water swirled over the rock, creating a wave but no white water. The trout swam lazily, waiting for food to become trapped in the reverse current created by the rock and the river’s flow. Robert backed up to look at the trout through the wire. He smiled at the thought of eating the fish.
A woman walked down the middle of the bridge. She saw the blood on Robert’s shoes and walked a little faster. When she reached her car, she pulled a phone from her purse and dialed 911.
Fifteen minutes later, a police cruiser arrived in the parking lot on the south side of the river. They parked in the Edworthy Park lot, walked past the cooking shelter, paralleled the river and then walked up the sloped southern end of the bridge. Both officers were over six feet tall and each weighed more than two hundred pounds.
Robert focused on the trout and wondered whether he could wade into the water to catch it. “It looks to be at least two pounds.”
The officers looked at one another. “He matches the description,” one said.
“Robert Rowe?” the other officer asked.
Robert turned to face the officers.
The officers noticed the blood on the front of his shirt and down the front of his pants. The officers separated, keeping a distance of about two metres between them.
Robert reached into his pocket.
“Put your hands up and keep them away from your body!” Both officers put their hands on their Glock handguns.
Robert lifted the dandelion weeder out of his pocket. He held it out front with his right hand and pointed the weapon at the officers.
A cyclist rang his bell, rode between the officers, stood up on his pedals, passed Robert and accelerated.
One of the officers spoke into his radio.
“I didn’t kill anyone that night. I was a passenger when those guys shot Moreau’s cousin. I didn’t know where they were driving or that they had guns until after I got in the car. But I was the one person someone recognized from that night. And that’s why Zander died.” Robert made eye contact with each officer in turn. “My brother died for no good reason.”
“Drop the weapon.” The officer looked to his right. Cyclists and pedestrians were gathering at the south end of the bridge. He looked to the north. More people were gathered at that end.
Robert looked at the dandelion weeder. “Killing that guy last night was an accident. I was after Kev Moreau.”
“Moreau is
dead,” the second officer said.
Robert looked at the officers. “Somebody else killed him?”
The officer nodded. “That’s correct. Now put the weapon down.”
“It’s a dandelion weeder.” Robert stared at the blood he hadn’t managed to wipe from the metal.
A siren sounded on the north side of the river. Robert looked north and focused on the concrete circles at that end of the bridge.
Another cyclist rode between the officers. This cyclist looked at Robert and said, “Fuckin’ loser!” Then the rider spat on Robert.
Rowe swiped the dandelion weeder in a wide arc and caught the cyclist on the thigh. The rider screamed, lost control of his bike, fell and slid into the opposite wall.
Robert lunged at the cyclist.
One officer shouted, “Stop!”
The other fired two rounds.
Robert dropped the dandelion weeder, looked at the hole in his chest, looked through the circles at the north end of the bridge, stepped back toward the circle in the wall, sat down and looked down through the mesh to see whether he could spot the trout behind the rock.
“Here, you chop the celery.” Arthur handed a knife and cutting board to Erinn.
“Thank you,” Erinn said, hugged him and kissed him on the cheek.
Arthur said, “We have to keep busy. We’ll get news soon. I just can’t sit and wait anymore.”
Someone knocked on the front door. Arthur and Erinn raced for it.
Maria stood on the doorstep with a fresh-baked pizza. “Hungry?”
At the top entrance to the trail, a vertical white metal pole blocked Harper’s path.
“What do we do?” Lane asked.
Harper stopped, shifted the Jeep into low and moved ahead slowly. He smiled at Lane. When the Jeep’s bumper met the pole, it fell over onto the pavement.
Matt’s legs ached. His back ached. His feet ached. He felt wonderful and free. “Not much further.”
He looked to his left. A pair of kits played tag above the sandstone rocks on the first level of the retaining wall. Matt looked for the mother but couldn’t spot her. He heard the sound of an approaching car and the sound of brakes being applied hard. Matt looked over his shoulder. He swung Jessica off of his back, tucked her on his hip and made ready to run.
