by Kylie Brant
In the space of fifteen months, Alexa had lost everything. Everyone.
I’m sorry, Mom. A drop of moisture fell on the marker. It took a moment for her to realize it was a tear. I’m so, so sorry.
Alexa looked up from her laptop. Stretched. She was feeling good about the changes she’d made to the profile. Even so, she’d sent a message to Raiker asking for a consult. He was on a case somewhere in Kentucky, so his response time would be uncertain. She’d been a little surprised to hear that he was in the field. Since his wife had suffered near-fatal injuries a couple of years ago, he’d stayed close to home.
When she’d finished with the changes, she copied all her files to flash drives so Ethan could have the laptop overnighted to the crime lab in Ottawa. Then she made some calls and arranged for a new laptop and a tablet to be delivered to the hotel they hadn’t checked out of in Halifax.
“How are you doing over there?” she asked Nyle.
“I’ve got four white cargo vans fitting our description so far from the toll cameras in the date window we established. Still not done.”
They’d long since finished the sandwiches Nyle had bought before returning to the cemetery gates. He hadn’t asked about her trip there, and she appreciated his discretion. Given his sweet tooth, it hadn’t been a total surprise to find the bakery sack alongside the one with the sandwiches, but she was grateful for the cookies, too.
Even as she had the thought, he reached to draw another double-chocolate-chip cookie out of the bag. “That better not be the last one,” she warned with a smile.
“Would I do that? There’s another. But I wouldn’t advise you leaving it unattended much longer.”
Taking him at his word, she snagged the bag and rescued the treat. Bit into it. A moment later, her enjoyment was ruined by a sudden thought. “Do you think Ethan has eaten?” Maybe they should run a meal out to him and the crew.
“I’ve never known him to go without food for too long. Don’t worry. He’s probably sent someone to town for—”
The door to the postage-stamp room they’d given opened. RCMP Lieutenant John Brookings stepped inside holding a takeout container.
“Is that for us?” Nyle joked. “Because it has been a couple of hours since we ate, if you don’t count the baked goods.”
“One of the officers reporting for shift a few minutes ago saw a youngster on a bike set it on the hood of your car and pedal away.” It wasn’t until he stepped farther into the room that Alexa noted that he wore a grim expression on his face and nitrile gloves on his hands. He nodded in her direction. “This has your name on it.”
Her stomach clenched in trepidation. The man put it on the table in front of them. “You don’t have to look inside if you’d prefer not to.”
ALEXA. Her name was written across the top in block letters with a black marker. “I’ll chance it.”
He reached out and opened the tab on the container. Raised the lid. Alexa stared in shock, a wave of revulsion nearly choking her.
It was impossible to tell the origin of the bloody organ inside. But Alexa didn’t need tests to guess that it was human. And it didn’t take much imagination to predict from whom it had come. Nyle uttered a vile oath, which sounded foreign coming from him. “Maybe they’ll be able to lift a print from the container,” she said in as steady a tone as she could manage.
“That’s a question for the lab guys. If he ate a meal earlier from this container or left DNA anywhere in it, that would help nail him.” Brookings said.
If the offender’s DNA were in the country’s CODIS system it would, Alexa thought. But if not, it would be yet another piece of evidence that would cement the case against the UNSUB only once he was arrested.
“We’ll know for sure what that is after the autopsy.” Nyle’s jaw was tight. “But it looks an awful lot like a tongue.”
Brookings nodded. “That’s my guess, too.”
Alexa risked another look. It would make an awful sort of sense. Jeanette Lawler had made her career exposing people to the public eye. If Fornier was to be believed, it would have been a secret of Lawler’s that had brought her to the attention of the UNSUB.
“I had one of my men download the feed from the security camera in the area where you were parked. I’ll have a picture of the kid in minutes.”
“It’s not that big a town.” Nyle stood. “Someone is going to know him.”
“I can lend you a couple of officers if you want to show the pictures door-to-door. I’ll take that.” Brookings picked up the Styrofoam box again. “Probably should keep this refrigerated until Sergeant Manning decides what he wants to be done with it.”
The grainy image from the film showed a young boy of nine or ten. Alexa thought of a quicker way to search for him than going door to door. Instead, she and Nyle would try the elementary schools in town. It was the third week in June, so chances were the principals would still be there.
They struck out at the first school. Hit gold with the second. “It looks like one of the Udall boys,” Michael Whisp, the short, stout principal told them, peering at the photo through his reading glasses. “Ernest, Douglas, Patrick…can never keep them straight. But I can give you his address.”
“That would be extremely helpful.”
The man disappeared into the outer office and came back a few minutes later with a card, which he handed to them. “There you go. I appreciate the gravity of the situation surrounding this inquiry, but go easy on the boy, please. All three of them are good kids. High-spirited, but they tend to run free at home.”
“He’s not in trouble,” Alexa hastened to assure the man. “We just want to ask him some questions.”
“He might be in trouble,” Nyle muttered, as they walked back to the car and got in.
“The child was just a tool.” Alexa fastened her seatbelt. “The UNSUB used him to get to us. Now we might be able to use the child to get to him.”
Finding the lad was easier said than done. They went to the address listed on the card the principal had given them. There was no answer when they rang the bell. The next-door neighbor was walking toward her car in the drive. Seeing them, she gave a friendly wave. “Mark and Janet are both at work,” she called.
Alexa descended the steps again. “We’re looking for one of their sons.” She held out the picture for the woman to view while Nyle flashed his credentials.
“Patrick? What’d he do?”
One had to wonder the about the boys’ pastimes when that was the first thing that came from the woman’s mouth. “Nothing, really. He just might have seen something that could help us.”
“Oh.” The woman smiled. “Whew. Well, those three don’t spend much time at home in the summer. I do know they are all ungrounded at the moment, which makes me suspect that they’re at the public pool. Do you know where that is?”
“I’m sure we can find it. Thank you.”
The woman got into her car and backed out of the drive as Nyle and Alexa walked to their vehicle. Before they got in it, however, a boy on a green bike wearing a blue cap zipped by. He jumped off his bike, letting it fall to the ground in the yard and sped up the steps to the house, slipping something off his neck. A key, Alexa noted as she and Nyle walked toward the house again. The boy disappeared inside. As they approached the porch, he was already running down the steps, something in his hand.
He came to a stop when he saw them. “Hi.” He surveyed them warily from beneath the brim of his Toronto Blue Jays cap, a mop of tousled blond hair showing around the edges. “I’m not allowed to buy anything.”
Nyle pulled out his credentials again and held them up for him. The boy’s expression went wary.
“We’d like to ask you about the delivery you made at the RCMP building on Pictou Road not long ago.”
“I just left a sandwich there.”
Alexa and Nyle exchanged a glance. “You’re not in trouble,” she said, giving him a friendly smile. “Did you look inside the container?”
He
shook his head. She saw now he held a pass in his hand. He must have needed it for the swimming pool. “He said not to open it, or it would get stale.”
“I just want to know who to thank for the delicious meal.” The snort Nyle made was barely audible.
“I don’t know the guy. He gave me this.” Digging in the pocket of his shorts, the boy pulled out a wadded-up ten-dollar bill. “He told me what car to put it on. Made me recite the license number four times like I’m some sort of idiot or something.” He rolled his eyes.
A chill prickled Alexa’s skin as she and Nyle exchanged a look. The offender knew the license number of the vehicle they drove. Had he left town at all after dumping Lawler’s body? The prospect was disturbing.
“Can you tell me what he looked like?”
Patrick shrugged. “Like a regular guy. Not that tall. Not as tall as him.” He pointed at Nyle. “Not as big, either. Skinny, but he had long sleeves on so I couldn’t see if he had muscles.”
Nyle peeled away from them, pulling his cell from his pocket and walking off a few paces to make a call. Alexa said, “What color hair did he have?”
“Gray,” he surprised her by saying. “And a gray mustache. But I think it was a wig. The hair, I mean. Because when he was walking away, he was fixing it, like great-grandma does when she wakes up from a nap. Sort of like this.” He reached his hands up like he was tugging at his hair.
“You’re very observant.” Her pulse quickened with excitement. At this rate, the boy would provide a better source than Fornier had. “Was he as tall as me?”
He eyed her critically. “Probably an inch or two taller.”
“What color were his eyes?”
His shrug was a quick bounce of his shoulders. “He had sunglasses on. Long pants and a long-sleeve Toronto Blue Jays T-shirt. In the summer.”
“Where did you see happen to see him?”
“At Fredo’s Sandwich shop. I mean, he was in the parking lot, and I was next door at the bakery getting some cookies.” He looked guilty for a moment. Rushed on. “I ate them there because if my brothers saw them, there’d be nothing but crumbs left. And when I picked up my bike, he came over and asked if I wanted to make ten bucks. I said sure.”
“Did he get into a vehicle?”
He shook his head, dashing her hopes. “No, he was walking. After he gave me the sandwich, he went back between the two buildings. I figured that’s why he didn’t take the food to the car himself. Because he didn’t want to walk all the way out there. Maybe because of his sore leg.”
An inner alert sounded. “He had a sore leg?”
“I guess because he limped. Sort of like this.” The boy gave an energetic imitation down the sidewalk and back. “Not a bad limp like I had after I broke my leg and first got the cast off. More like the way I moved a few weeks later after it’d healed.”
The kid was impressively alert. “Which leg was it?”
He slapped his right thigh. “Just like the one I broke.”
“You’ve done a good job,” Alexa said sincerely. “We won’t take any more of your time at the moment. You’re free to go.”
But he didn’t sprint for his bike like she thought he would. “Are you Alexa?”
“I am.”
“Don’t you know who this guy is? I mean, why would he buy you a sandwich if he doesn’t know you?”
“If it’s who I think it is, we haven’t met.” Nyle rejoined them. “But I know about him.”
He smiled impishly. “My brother Doug bought Tara Marvin a slice of pizza because he thought she was hot. Maybe this guy likes you.”
The thought had her mouth drying out. It was all she could do to force the words out. “That’s a thought. Thanks again for your help.”
This time he lost no time gathering up his bike, jumping on it and pedaling off.
“It would be worthwhile for that young man to sit down with a forensic sketch artist,” Alexa informed Nyle. “He’s eagle-eyed, and he saw the offender minutes ago rather than three years like Fornier. I’d like to get a second sketch and compare the two.”
Nyle nodded. “I just called Ethan. He’s contacting the Halifax RCMP and requesting Cote’s services again. He’s also sending extra officers from the scene over to help do a patrol for the van in the vicinity.”
“Let me guess.” She turned toward the car. “We’re on camera duty again.”
He nodded. “We’ll check the businesses the kid mentioned and other ones in the vicinity for security cameras. Then it’s back to our tasks from earlier this afternoon.”
A sense of urgency filled her. If Anis Tera had been caught on camera in town in the last couple of hours, they wouldn’t need a forensic artist. They’d have the first picture of The Tailor in the history of the case.
Three hours later, they were back at the RCMP headquarters in Halifax, preparing for the day’s briefing that would begin in twenty minutes. Alexa had a feeling that she looked worse for wear. The long hours without sleep were beginning to take a toll. But working practically around the clock hadn’t prevented Jeanette Lawler’s death.
That failure weighed heavily.
Ethan strode into the conference area they were using for the meeting, his cell clutched in his hand and his expression forbidding. “Commissioner Gagnon,” he said, by way of explanation, and pressed a button before setting the phone on the table between them. “You’re on speakerphone, Commissioner. Dr. Hayden is with me.”
“Doctor. Thank you for your efforts on the task force.” Gagnon’s voice was brisk but sincere. I wanted to hear your thoughts about the UNSUB’s communication with you. Is this an encouraging development? Or is he playing a cat-and-mouse game with us?”
She flicked a glance at Ethan’s expression, which hadn’t lightened. She could only guess at the phone conversation before it had included her. “Nothing in the profile I’ve developed leads me to believe that the offender had planned to change his behavior. Now that he has, however, he will attempt to manipulate us, yes.”
“And what do you think precipitated the change?”
A bit discomfited, she said, “I believe it was my appearance at the press conference that did so, sir. We know the UNSUB researches his victims exhaustively. He might have been intrigued by my specialty in entomology, given his interest in that area.”
“Sergeant Manning believes he has an unhealthy fixation on you.”
Ah. The reason for the temper radiating off Ethan was now becoming clear. “I wouldn’t disagree. That doesn’t mean we can’t use it to our advantage.”
A note of satisfaction entered the commissioner’s voice. “That’s what I wanted to hear you say. Of course, we don’t expect you to take any unnecessary risks. But as long as you’re comfortable, I’d like you to use his new focus on you as a way to expand the investigation. Tomorrow I’ll call another press conference, for which the two of you will again be miked in remotely. I want you to speak directly to the offender. You know best what to say to say to him. But use his newfound fixation to draw him out.”
“Exactly what I would suggest myself, sir.”
“Excellent.” There was no mistaking the note of finality in the man’s tone. “Ethan? Did you have anything else to add?”
“No, sir.”
“Then Captain Campbell will contact you before the conference to discuss what information you’re ready to make public. I won’t keep you.”
They said their goodbyes and disconnected.
Ethan slipped the phone in his pocket, careful not to make eye contact with Alexa. But she could sense his disapproval. He didn’t have to state it. She already knew that she was in for some heated discussion over on this subject.
For now, though, Ethan and an RCMP officer busied themselves hooking up the video conference software. The equipment was a far cry from what they had available in the hotel room yesterday morning. There was a large screen hanging in the center of the wall and three mikes set up before each of Ethan’s, Alexa’s and Nyle’s places a
t the table. Within minutes, familiar faces filled the screen. The remainder of the task force team.
Ethan walked back and took his place at the table between Alexa and Nyle. “Welcome, everyone.”
There were subdued murmurs from the rest of the officers. “Tough break on Lawler,” Ian McManus said, and the other two agents nodded.
“It was. We had the people out on the street, in the clubs, but…” Ethan shook his head. “Hard to know whether we missed her in the crowds or if she’d left by the time we hit the places.”
“To be that close,” muttered Steve Friedrich, who was clean-shaven today, but somehow still looked slightly disheveled.
“Pretty damn frustrating,” Ethan agreed. “Some of you have updated me throughout the day, but to keep everyone on the same page, why don’t you summarize your findings?”
Ian McManus started. “Jonah and I caught up with an ex-girlfriend of Norton’s.” The second New Brunswick victim, Alexa recalled. With the assassin bug in his mouth. “And there’s a reason for she’s an ex because she hates the guy’s guts. She clapped when we told her he was dead. Claims that she didn’t know anything about how he made a living. Said when they were living together, he’d sometimes disappear for days and then reappear, saying he’d been ‘working.’ She did know that whatever he was doing during that time, he got paid in bitcoin for it.”
He looked down to consult some papers in front of him before continuing. “Five years ago she says he claimed someone was trying to blackmail him. He wouldn’t tell her for what, but he was stomping around and threatening to kill whoever it was.”
“That sounds like what Fornier told us about Anis Tera and Simard,” Nyle said.
“That’s what I thought. We found two computers at Norton’s apartment when we searched it, so hopefully, the forensic IT guys will find something on the older model.”
Jonah Bannon spoke next. “I spent the day interviewing Henry Paulus’s colleagues and the chief at the fire department where he worked. The chief was real defensive about any hints that Paulus might have been a firebug. Guess he figures that reflects on him since he hired the guy. We didn’t get too much from the other firefighters, except two who admitted that they’d heard Paulus make some remarks that had them wondering. Edmonton had a half-dozen suspicious fires the previous year, all businesses. For every one of them, the owner was alibied tight. Out somewhere in public surrounded by people the night their places burned down.”
