by Garry Ryan
Milton escaped custody in Calgary and was the subject of a province-wide manhunt. He was remanded in custody and will face a series of new charges in a Calgary court on Monday.
Arthur waited at the door as Lane was dropped off mid-morning. He hugged his partner in the doorway. Lane kicked off his shoes. After Arthur released him, Lane sat down and peeled off his still-damp socks.
“What do you need?” Arthur asked.
“A bath.” Lane took off his winter jacket and hung it up. It’s amazing. Here I am doing the usual things as if nothing has changed.
“No questions?” Arthur put his hand on Lane’s shoulder.
Lane tried to smile. “That would be nice.” He went upstairs, got a change of clothes from the bedroom, walked into the main bathroom, and locked the door. He ran the tub, got undressed, and got in. Every time the phone rang, he let his head fall back under the water, covering his ears. He got out when his feet and hands had started to wrinkle.
He dried himself off, put on a T-shirt and sweatpants, and went to bed.
MONDAY, FEBRUARY 10
chapter 22
This is Shazia Wajdan outside the home of University of Calgary professor Andrew Pierce.
Dr. Andrew Stephen Pierce, age thirty-five, was shot and killed by a member of the Calgary Police Service in the neighbourhood of Cougar Ridge late Saturday night.
At a news conference Sunday afternoon, CPS announced that the Alberta Serious Incident Response Team will investigate the officer-involved shooting.
CUT TO CHIEF JIM SIMPSON, CALGARY POLICE SERVICE “The ASIRT team has interviewed the officers involved as well as witnesses at the scene. ASIRT is in the process of investigating the sequence of events leading up to this fatality.”
Chief Simpson confirms that Cori Mallory Pierce, wife of Dr. Pierce, has been arrested and is in custody.
When asked to confirm reports of hostages being involved, Chief Simpson would not comment, noting that the investigation is in its early stages.
Colleagues of Dr. Pierce expressed shock at his death.
CUT TO DR. EDGAR WHILES, DEAN OF EDUCATION “He was such a vibrant man and active in the social life of the university. It’s shocking that he should die in such a violent manner.”
A check of Dr. Pierce’s Facebook account reveals several entries in which he expresses concern over his safety.
When asked about the possibility of overturning the conviction of Byron Thomas, who was found guilty of an earlier murder, Chief Simpson said that the process is already underway.
Shazia Wajdan, CBC News, Calgary.
Lane woke to the sound of Indiana crying. He turned over in the dark, looking at the clock. Eleven o’clock. I’ve slept more than twelve hours! He rolled out of bed, stuffed his feet into sandals, and moved downstairs. At the bottom of the stairs he looked to the right, where Arthur snored as he slept on the couch under a white comforter. Dan was in the kitchen holding the baby, trying to warm a bottle under the tap.
“Let me take him,” Lane said. Dan handed over Indy, who stopped crying for a moment, opened his eyes, then began to cry again. Dan tried the formula on his wrist and handed the bottle to Lane. The crying stopped when the bottle touched Indy’s mouth.
“You slept for a long time,” Dan said.
Lane nodded, feeling Indy’s warmth, seeing a tiny hand touch the glass of the bottle. “Go back to sleep. I’ve got this.”
“You sure?” Dan put his hand on Lane’s shoulder.
Lane smiled. “Yes.” He sat down on a kitchen chair while Dan went downstairs. Lane held the bottle for the baby while studying Indy’s open eyes, thick black hair, and round face. Lane stood up, looked out the window, saw snow falling. The flakes were loonie-sized. He leaned up over the sink and close to the window. Snowflakes created a halo around the streetlamp. The roof of their car appeared to have ten centimetres of snow on top. “What do you think of all this snow?”
Indy released his bottle. There was a hissing of air. Lane set the bottle on the counter and moved Indy up onto his shoulder. The detective began to pat the baby’s back. He could smell formula, baby shampoo, urine, and the faint scent of gun oil on his hands.
Lane started to move around the kitchen and dining room as he patted Indy’s back, not quite able to escape the scent of gun oil and flashbacks of Dr. Pierce’s open-eyed stare as he lay at the feet of Donna’s sons. I wonder how they’re doing?
Indy burped. Lane looked sideways at the baby, and he burped again. “Glad you enjoyed that.” Lane sat down and continued to feed Indy until the baby fell asleep.
TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 11
chapter 23
Lane and Sam walked along the snow-covered sidewalk. The snow muffled noises except for the crunch of Lane’s boots as they compressed the white. His phone rang. Sam watched the detective fumble for it. I should throw it away. Instead, Lane looked at the face of the phone, recognized the number, and pressed the green with his thumb.
“I have some news for you,” Nigel said.
“All right.” Lane kept walking. Sam kept pulling the leash, and the detective kept yanking back.
“Forensics has been working overtime on the Pierce BMW. An external hard drive was sent to Nebal, who took about fifteen minutes to find her way into some video files. The professor and his wife kept records of six different crime scenes, a total of twelve homicides. The videos show Cori Pierce was an active participant, most often an instigator. Evidence is being prepared for the Crown Prosecutor. They also recovered the bullet Andrew Pierce fired at you. It’s intact and being processed as we speak.” Nigel waited. “I thought you’d want to know.”
“Thank you.”
“What are you doing?”
“Walking Sam the dog.” Lane saw a squirrel running along the top of a fence. Sam pulled on the leash.
“You did your job. You saved the lives of the innocents.”
I killed a man. I should feel something. I just feel numb. “Please call if there are more developments.”
“One other thing.”
The squirrel climbed a tree, looking down and chattering at Sam. “What’s that?”
“We found two empty blood bags in the back of the BMW. It’s been type matched to the blood spatter at the Pierce home. It’s also a type match to Cori and Andrew. DNA analysis will take a little longer. It looks like the social media entries made by Andrew, the 911 call, and blood evidence were designed to divert us. We were meant to assume the Pierces were either killed or kidnapped. That way, they hoped to create confusion so they could disappear while sending us on a wild goose chase.”
Lane spotted a white jackrabbit bounding down the street. He gripped the leash with his free hand the instant before the dog lunged. “What did the Randalls say?”
“They thanked me. They said they would get back to us after they had time to digest the information.”
“Thanks.”
“You all right?”
“Sam’s after a rabbit. Gotta go.” He pressed End, stuffing the phone in a pocket and grabbing the leash with both hands. At the end of the block, they crossed the street to the pathway running below the edge of soccer fields and a baseball diamond bordered by chain-link fence. Lane watched Sam sniff the air. The dog stopped. Lane looked left. About forty metres above them, at the edge of the fields set up on a plateau, three coyotes travelled single file. They glanced down at Lane and Sam without stopping. The hunters appeared comfortable in their thick grey winter coats. They puffed frosty breath into the air, trotting along in search of the jackrabbits, mice, voles, and squirrels living in the neighbourhood. They turned left through a gate in the chain-link
fence and were gone. Just three hunters out for a walk. He looked at his dog. “Not much different from us, eh Sam?”
When they got home, there was a Cadillac Escalade parked out front. The licence plate read LLAGETS. “Fuck.” Maybe I should just keep walking. Sam began to limp. Got ice stuck in your paws?
He took Sam around to the back door, removed the leash, and shut the gate behind him. His right elbow ached from being turned inside out by Sam. Lane went around to the front door, climbed the steps, opened the door, and stepped inside. He heard conversation coming up from downstairs as he leaned down to untie his boots.
“He’s absolutely gorgeous!” Lola’s voice was in full foghorn mode.
Lane hung up his coat. This is the last thing I need right now.
“He’s three weeks old now.” John’s voice carried up the stairs.
Lane went to the top of the stairs. I may need a drink or four before this night is over.
“Since we haven’t had an invitation, we decided to drop over,” Lola said.
“Are you the one who wanted to change the colour of my sister’s skin?” Alex, who sat next to her sister on the couch, stood up, taking Indy from Lola.
Maybe this won’t be so bad. Thank you, Alex. Lane stepped down the stairs and onto the family room floor. Saturday night I wore socks when I killed a man.
John was across the room in an armchair. He stood up, glaring at Alex.
Lola waved at him. “Oh, sit down. I had that coming.” She looked at Dan, then at Lane. “I am asking to see Indy.”
Arthur gave Lane a worried frown.
There is no self-help guru who tells people exactly what to say to a man who just shot and killed someone.
Christine touched her son’s cheek, looking at Lane. “What do you say, Uncle?”
Lane sat on the arm of Arthur’s chair. “Not my call.”
“She respects your opinion,” Dan said.
Lane felt a hand on his back. You’ve always got my back, Arthur. “A child needs family.” He looked at a smiling Lola. “Christine and Dan always have the final say. They must be respected as the parents of the child.”
Lola frowned.
The room held its breath.
Alex leaned forward to say something. Christine put her hand on her sister’s arm. Alex clamped her mouth closed.
Lane watched the worried look on John’s face.
Lola turned to Lane, who met her gaze.
Indiana farted, making a putt-putt sound. The volume wasn’t remarkable. The start-to-finish time was. Matt was the first to laugh. “You’re my hero, Indy!”
Lola stood, waiting for the laughter to subside. “We came here because I have an apology to make and this.” She reached into her purse, pulling out an envelope. “The two of you deserve a nice wedding if it’s what you choose.” She held up the envelope. “This is yours. No strings attached. It’s airfare, accommodation for ten, and a wedding ceremony in Cuba.”
Lane watched Lola. She’s not crying, not even close to it. He wiped at his eyes even as he felt rage boiling.
Dan said, “We’re not for sale.”
Lola turned to him. “I said no strings attached.” She handed the envelope to Christine, then looked at John. “We’d better go.”
John stood.
Arthur said, “You’re staying for supper.”
Lane glared at him. Arthur glared right back. Lane sensed the room turning to look at him. He felt tears rolling down his cheeks. He wiped at them with the back of his hand. Someone stood to put an arm around his shoulder. It was Matt.
“What’s the matter with him?” Lola asked.
Matt said, “It’s a delayed reaction. He shot a man on Saturday night. We were warned this might happen.”
Lane tried to speak, but his voice was choked off by emotion.
Arthur said, “Chief Simpson called and told us there will be help available, because it’s hard to predict how an officer will react under these circumstances.”
Christine continued. “So we contacted Dr. Alexandre, who predicted Uncle Lane would probably internalize the experience, but the shock would wear off and then this might happen.”
Dan said, “We were told to be ready just in case.”
“To be there for him,” Arthur said.
Lola said, “You were the one who killed Pierce? We knew someone was killing off the Nine Bottles. It was you who saved that family?”
“And now he’s paying the price for it,” Arthur said.
Matt got close to Lane’s ear. “Nigel phoned. He feels guilty, because he thinks he froze when he should have fired.”
In his mind’s eye, Lane replayed the scene. The angles of fire. The locations of Donna and her family. Through tears he caught Lola’s brief smile of triumph. The words on the note stuck to Nigel’s computer screen came back to him: VENEER & PLASTIC, PLASTIC & VENEER. He said, “I need to make a call.” Lane got up, climbing the stairs to the master bedroom.
Nigel and Anna sat across from each other at her usual spot in the library. It was five o’clock.
“So you were there?” Anna looked out into the library proper.
Nigel nodded. “I came through the door connecting the kitchen to the pantry and laundry room. The professor shot at my partner, who returned fire.”
“What did you do?”
“Nothing. I froze.”
Anna looked at her laptop. “I want to show you something.” She lifted the screen, tapping a key.
Nigel leaned over. He could smell the gentle scent of strawberry soap and shampoo. Anna turned the screen so he could read the numbers. Nigel asked, “That’s how much the professor and his wife had stashed away?”
Anna nodded. “And this is real estate in Mexico.”
“So they made murder profitable.”
“For a while.”
Nigel sat back. “What are you going to do with it?”
“I like the Children’s Hospital. What do you think?”
Nigel nodded. His phone rang. He picked it out of his pocket, reading the number. “I have to take this.” He pressed a button.
“Nigel? We need to talk. Can you come over?” Lane asked.
“When?”
“Now.”
Nigel walked in the front door, saw the assortment of shoes and boots just inside, and was greeted by a smiling, round-faced, balding man with Mediterranean features saying, “Glad you could make it. Hope you like pizza.”
Lane appeared. He was wearing a black T-shirt and dress pants, and had a baby tucked in his arm. “Arthur, this is Nigel.”
Nigel hesitated for a moment, unsure if he should shake hands, and was instead engulfed in a hug from Arthur. “Good to meet you.”
The house smelled of tomato sauce, pepperoni, ham, and pineapple. A large dog arrived, promptly sticking his nose in Nigel’s crotch.
“Sorry.” Arthur grabbed the dog’s collar, pulling him back. “Sam, behave yourself.”
Lane said, “Come on in. Hope you like pizza.”
“I’m not really hungry.” Nigel took off his coat. Arthur hung it up.
“We need to talk.” Lane went to sit on the recliner in the front room. He looked down at the sleeping baby as he waited for Nigel to sit on the couch. The sound of conversation came up the stairs from the family room.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you have guests.” Nigel moved to get up.
Lane stopped him by opening his free hand. “Please. I need to know what you saw on S
aturday night. I need to know if what I saw, what I did —”
Nigel took a long, shuddering breath.
Lane waited.
“I came up the stairs after you. Then I went around to the left to flank you. There was a passageway from the laundry room through the pantry and into the kitchen. I had my gun out. I saw Cori and Andrew Pierce. Donna and her husband sat in front of them. Cori told Andrew to shoot one of the boys. I could just see the kids’ feet because they sat on the couch along the wall next to you.”
Nigel took a breath. “I just stood there and froze as the professor turned. Then you said, ‘Police!’ I saw him fire. There were three more shots. He fell down. You stepped into my field of vision, told Cori to drop the knife. Then she took off out the door.”
Lane nodded. His eyes did a thousand-metre stare. Indiana kept his head nestled up against the detective’s chest. “Thank you.”
“For what? I didn’t do anything. Couldn’t do anything.” Nigel’s chin fell to his chest.
Lane said, “I’m sorry about the boys. That they had to see a man shot in front of them. I couldn’t live with myself if anyone in Donna’s family had been shot. From your position, if you had fired, it’s very likely Donna, or her husband, or both would have been hit. It was your training. Remember? Use your weapon as the last option. You did what your training taught you to do. You didn’t have a clear field of fire, but I did. I’ve been thinking about this over and over again. I think I can live with killing Andrew Pierce. I don’t think I could live with myself if any of Donna’s family had been killed.” Lane looked down at Indy, pulling the baby away from himself and seeing the wet patch on his T-shirt. “I’m going to have to change the baby.”
“I thought I’d let you down.” Nigel lifted his head.
Lane stood up. “Just the opposite, in fact. Go grab a plate and some pizza. I’ll get the little guy a clean diaper and a new outfit.”
