by H. P. Bayne
Dez scoffed. “Yeah. Because choking someone into unconsciousness is just another way of saying ‘hello,’ right? Anyway, how’d she do it? She’s not even solid, and you said she was trying to hit Bulldog earlier but wasn’t connecting.”
“I’m guessing it’s because of what I can do. I’m more open to them, so they can communicate with me in ways they can’t with others. But that’s just a guess.”
“Why attack you when you’re trying to help her?”
“My best guess? She wanted to show me how she died, but I think she also needed me to really know it, to see what she saw. That tattoo. Does her common law have anything like that?”
“Easy enough to check, but from what you say, it’s not her husband. He’s Indigenous. The guy she showed you was white.”
“So Danny’s telling the truth, Dez. He didn’t do it.”
“Sure. All we have to do now is go to Major Crimes and tell them Breanna’s ghost choked you out and showed you a tattooed arm. They’d laugh us out of there in two minutes flat.”
“I guess that means I need to find something else then.”
Dez glared at him. “Nope. You’re done with this. It’s getting too dangerous.”
“I don’t have a choice. I haven't met many as determined as she is. She won’t stop, not with me or Bulldog, until I’ve finished this for her.”
“And what if you can’t? Sully, you’re only twenty years old, you’ve got no background in investigation or defensive tactics, and you’re talking about going up against a killer whose name and face you don’t even know. He could be anyone.”
“Anyone except Danny. Come on, Dez. I need to help Breanna, for my own sanity as much as anything. And you know we can’t leave Danny rotting in jail for something he didn’t do.”
“He still hit her. Far as I’m concerned, jail’s a good place for him.”
“Maybe so, but there’s a murderer out there getting away with it right now. For all we know, he could be getting ready to kill again.”
“And how certain are you that you won’t end up being his next victim?”
“Dez, you can’t protect me forever.”
Dez met his eye. “No? Watch me.”
There was nothing Sully could say to that, no arguing with Dez on a characteristic as much a part of him as his hair colour or height. They fell back into silence as Dez drove Sully to his home in the Gladstone neighbourhood and pulled into the driveway.
Dez snagged his brother's arm as he tried to climb out of the car. “I know I can get overbearing with you, and I’m sorry. But it won’t change. That said, I know we need to do this—and I mean ‘we.’ You stay put at my place tonight and then tomorrow morning we’ll start figuring some stuff out.”
Sully met his eye with a smile. “Thanks, bro.”
Dez smiled in reply, but it faded fast. “And if you even think of leaving this house without me at your back on this, ghosts and murderers will be the least of your problems. You got me?”
When Sully awoke in Dez and Eva’s spare bedroom, sunlight was streaming through the windows, and Breanna was standing over him.
It took the usual few seconds for his heart to stop pounding as he fixed her with a glare. “I’m on it, okay? By the way, that choking thing last night kind of sucked.”
Eva had gotten up briefly to say hi last night and had commented on the bruises around his throat, at which point Sully realized Breanna’s attack had been a little more physical than he’d realized.
This morning was no better. The bruises had deepened in places, two dark spots the shape of thumb pads directly in the centre of his throat.
A little before eight, Sully found Eva in the kitchen, struggling to settle their energetic three-year-old long enough to get a full breakfast in her. Kayleigh was a cute kid by any standard, but she also possessed an exotic appearance by virtue of her mother’s Indigenous hair and skin colouring and her father’s Irish green eyes. In attitude, as Eva frequently observed, Kayleigh was every inch her father’s daughter: stubborn and strong and yet affectionate and open, with a healthy dose of wacky humour tossed in. Eva was far steadier with her emotions than either her husband or daughter, a rock for Dez’s waves to crash against. Dez was prone to an emotional gamut of giddying highs and depressive lows, but Sully had noticed his brother had been far more even-keeled since he’d met Eva. And for someone who loved his brother as much as Sully did, that made Eva a godsend.
It didn’t hurt that Dez had his own family to fuss over now, giving Sully the advantage of a little more breathing space. Without Eva, the very notion of Sully’s working late hours at a bar in Riverview would have led to countless arguments with Dez and far more and longer visits during his shifts. While Dez was still plenty protective of him—a reality Sully quietly didn’t mind given his once-lonely and neglected past—Sully could recognize and appreciate the recently afforded room to spread his wings a little. For a guy straddling that border between youth and manhood, that was a welcome change.
Sully grinned as Kayleigh’s eyes lit up at the sight of her uncle. Eva gave up the battle as Kayleigh sprung from the chair and bounded over, arms extended as she angled for a hug. Sully happily obliged, scooping her up and holding her to him.
“Hey, KayBee, how’s my girl?”
“Hi, Unca Suh-wee!” she exclaimed, tiny arms clamping around his neck like a vice. Her father’s daughter indeed.
Sully peered over Kayleigh’s head at Eva. “Dez get home okay?”
“Soaked through and grumpy, but he was a happy camper by the time he showered and hit the mattress. You sleep all right?”
“Like a log. I thought you worked today.”
“I’m going to a swing shift for a few days,” she said. “Dez is moving to nights.”
That would work well for having Dez’s help on the Breanna thing, for the moment at least. After that, it would be a matter of either falling back on Mara Braddock to watch Kayleigh, or Sully trying to find a way to get out of the house without Dez threatening to tie him to something. Sully had a feeling there would be no place for Kayleigh in an impromptu murder investigation.
“How’s the throat?” Eva asked, moving closer for a look.
“It doesn’t really hurt that bad. It looks worse than it is.”
“Sounded pretty bad from what Dez told me.”
“He was pretty freaked out about it.”
Eva’s smile was a knowing one. “You don’t say. Do you mind working your magic to get Kayleigh to eat? She actually listens to you and, that way, I can start on the big people’s breakfast.”
Sully sat down with Kayleigh on his knee, spooning the crispy rice cereal into her mouth while she eyed him and giggled between bites.
“Still raining?” he asked, glancing out the window next to where Eva was readying a couple frying pans on the stove.
“Pouring. We’re lucky we’ve still got power out here. A lot of places more city centre are still out. The wind’s not as bad, so they said on the news this morning crews are trying to patch up the broken lines. That said, it’s likely the wind’s going to pick up again later today. So will the rain, if you can believe that.”
“Are they still talking about evacuating The Forks?”
“Possibly. The Forks is still on high alert, and some people have already left just in case. The river’s higher, already, and the beach is underwater again, but so far no major flooding to the houses. Lots of sump pumps and sandbags working overtime, though.”
Sully made an airplane noise for Kayleigh, flying another spoonful of cereal into the open hangar. As Kayleigh chewed, Sully returned his attention to Eva, and to the topic of Breanna.
“Eva, did you know a woman named Breanna Bird?”
“Yeah. It was awful what happened to her. She was a pretty awesome woman.” She turned to meet Sully’s eye. “You’re sure it was Breanna who attacked you last night? It doesn’t seem like something she’d do.”
Sully pictured his close-up view of the woman’s face, the blackene
d, cloudy eye staring through him as she implanted that image in his brain immediately before unconsciousness. “I’m sure. Like I told Dez, she wasn’t trying to hurt me, just show me something.”
“Granted, I was half-asleep, and we didn’t have a long conversation about it, but he mentioned something to me about her showing you a guy with a tattoo on his forearm?”
“A black candle, yeah. Lit and dripping wax. Have you ever come across something like that?”
“If I did, I don’t remember it. I can run a check when I get to work, see if we’ve got anyone in the database with that tattoo.”
“That would be awesome, thanks.”
Eva cracked a few eggs into one of the pans. “Scrambled or fried?”
“Doesn’t matter to me.”
Eva set about scrambling. She was silent a few minutes as Sully listened to Kayleigh’s chatter, but she spoke up while her daughter was busy chewing.
“You need to be more careful, Sully. No repeats of what happened last night, okay?”
Sully was trying to think up a decent explanation that wouldn’t negate an apology when Eva turned to face him. “Dez will follow you anywhere. You know that. I get the things you see and feel must be pretty intense, and that you want them over as soon as possible. I really do. But, if you jump without thinking it through first, you’re not only putting yourself at risk, but Dez too. I know he can hover, and it can get frustrating. Believe me, he does the same with us. But it’s who he is.”
“I know it is. You’re right. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking last night.”
“It’s not just about Dez. It’s you too. Dez loves you but so do Kayleigh and I and your parents. Just try to remember that before you leap, all right?”
Sully nodded and smiled. There wasn’t a whole lot else he could do.
He could promise her all sorts of things, but he knew there were times when cautious delay wasn’t an option. Not with the people he was dealing with.
Sometimes they made the decisions for him.
6
Dez didn’t sleep much longer, the smell of frying bacon proving enough to draw him out of bed.
Sully was on the floor with Kayleigh, playing with a firetruck one of Dez and Eva’s friends had given her for her last birthday. A rescue only Kayleigh could see paused briefly as Dez scooped her up and kissed her on the forehead.
“Sweetie, I thought we agreed you wanted to be a police officer, not a firefighter.”
Kayleigh beamed. “Fire, Daddy!”
Dez made a face and set her back down. “Whose kid are you, anyway?”
Kayleigh laughed that off, then broke into a fresh set of giggles as Dez walked past and ruffled Sully’s hair before moving to the stove to kiss Eva good morning.
“Smells good, babe.”
“You want to help me out, grab a spatula, Snowman. Bacon duty’s on you.”
Eva had been calling Dez “Snowman” since they’d met, presumably a reference to the abominable snowman rumoured to be only slightly bigger than Dez himself. Sully had tried repeating the nickname at Dez once and had been soundly throttled for it. There were some things only a beautiful woman could get away with.
After breakfast was done and the dishwasher loaded, Dez dropped back into his chair at the table while Eva carried Kayleigh off for a bath.
Sully, still at the table, waited until he and Dez were alone. “What’s up?”
“I had a chance last night to check our system for that tattoo you mentioned. Only one guy shows as having something like that. His name’s Kenton Barwell, and he’s bad news. He’s a known gun and drug dealer with a history of violence, and he’s known to carry a concealed firearm. He’s not believed to be a patched-in member of any particular gang, but he’s a known associate of the Devil’s Cross.”
“How close an associate exactly?”
“Too close for comfort,” Dez said. “He was netted during a couple of gang-house raids over the past few years, so he’s definitely close enough to get in the door and leave again intact.”
“So what’s the best plan for talking to him?”
“Huh?”
“We’re going to have to talk to him. That’s the only way to find out whether he’s the right guy.”
Sully knew he was right on that last point when Dez limited his argument to the former. “You, little brother, are not going anywhere near Kenton Barwell, you got me? I’ll check him out.”
“You just said he’s been known to carry. You may be able to take him easily in a fair fight, but you make a pretty sizeable target if he decides to shoot first. Anyway, I’m the one who saw the tattoo, so unless you’re able to convince him to let you photograph his arm, you’ve got no choice but to take me with you.”
Dez sat back in the chair, crossing him arms over his chest while fixing Sully with a firm glare—Dez’s patented immovable object pose.
“Not happening, Sully. End of story.”
“So what do we do about it then? I need to figure this out, and I can’t think of any other way. If that tattoo is the key to all of this, I need to see it.”
Dez had yet to uncross his arms or to release Sully from that piercing stare. And Sully was well aware Dez was thinking back on his brother’s ill-advised adventure last night and wondering to what lengths he might need to go to prevent any sort of repeat.
“Dez ….”
“There might be another way,” Dez said, sitting forward and propping his arms on the table—a position that held more promise for Sully. “Paul Dunsmore. You know him?”
“He opened one of the shelters in Riverview, Rising Son.”
“Yeah, but it’s a little more than that. He used money from his day job with his family’s business to start a program called End of the Tunnel. It’s kind of turned it into a catchall over the years, handles mobile crisis, some street life extraction, stable housing, education, employment. Paul’s basically become a brother to some of the older street people and a surrogate father to the younger ones. He’s plugged in in a way few are. Be worth an ask, I think.”
“He’d know about people’s tattoos?”
“Not necessarily, but he’d be able to ask in a way that wouldn’t end with him nursing a bullet wound. Anyway, he’d be a good guy for you to know. Chances are he knows exactly where guys like Edgar live and would be happy to pop by the bar next time and play cabbie.”
Dez checked his watch. “As you can imagine, Paul keeps some goofy hours, so I doubt he’d be down at the shelter or at Tunnel offices yet. And I think I remember someone telling me his day job involves mainly working from home.” He met Sully’s eye and smiled. “I’m sure he’d be thrilled if we turned up on his doorstep, though.”
Sully, like everyone else in Riverview, knew of Paul.
But, while the man had popped in at the Black Fox on a few occasions, Sully had never had occasion to get to know the man.
So he was surprised when Dez steered them out of Riverview and north on the Forks Bridge. Were it not for the persistent heavy rain, they’d have a spectacular view right now of the beach and, to the east, the expanse of land that made up what was called The Forks. The area was home to some of the oldest and most beautiful residences in the city, as well as the priciest boutique shopping and the most exclusive restaurants. It was where the old rich lived, played, retired and eventually died, an area as exclusive as a country club where only the right kind were granted a welcome.
“Seems like a weird place to find Paul Dunsmore,” Sully said.
“Is, isn’t it? There are a few things about him that might surprise you.”
“Such as?”
“His father, for starters. You know Dunsmore Developments?”
Sully shook his head.
“You really need to pay more attention to the news. That’s the corporation that broke land on a large chunk of the buildings going up in New Town.” Dez tweaked a thumb backwards, toward the growing number of glass towers that were transforming KR’s relatively new downtown co
re, a replacement for the Riverview area that had—as far as the “respectable” were concerned—given way to the wrong sort. “Dunsmore Developments designed the buildings and then the corporation held the contracts on the physical construction. They’ve had their hands in New Town development right from the start and, judging by the height of their tower, they’re doing pretty well for themselves.”
“So Paul’s father runs Dunsmore?”
“Mother and father. It’s a family affair. The whole lot of them, including Paul, have a seat on the board, and Paul works in architecture or design or something. But I’m told he avoids the office whenever possible.”
“His choice or theirs?”
“Word is he’s kind of a black sheep but, honestly, I’m not sure of much beyond that. Could be he wants to put as much distance as possible between himself and the business while still raking in the cash. I remember a few issues cropping up between the Dunsmores and social activists or history lovers when plans were tabled to tear down historic buildings and affordable housing to make way for New Town development. You can see who won that battle. That’s what pushed so many more folks east into Riverview, which was just fine with the likes of the Dunsmores.”
“But not Paul.”
“He’s used his money to set up various foundations and social programs. The Rising Son shelter was just one of them. As far as Riverview goes, he’s got the golden touch. Everyone wants to be near him—which is why he might be the right guy to get us the info we need. There aren’t a lot of people on either side of the financial spectrum who will say no to Paul Dunsmore.”
Sully regarded his wardrobe of baggy hooded sweatshirt, jeans and scuffed work boots, then flipped down the visor to check his hopeless mop of pale brown hair. He hadn’t shaved this morning, leaving him with a layer of stubble that girls liked more than wealthy businessmen were likely to.
Dez smirked at him. “Don’t worry, Sull. One look at that pretty face and Dunsmore will be the bluebird sitting on your shoulder. I hear he’s got a thing for cute young guys. Especially scruffy ones like you.”
