Snow Light

by Danielle Zinn

  Once you have digested the information I have just provided, I am asking you, Mr Thomas, to pick me up at my cabin and take me to prison — the place where I belong.

  If possible, I would like to personally apologise to my former patients who were in my care and whose trust I have so severely betrayed, and to their families, as well. But, most importantly, to one special person — my grandchild. The only child that was not from Bohemia. It is beyond my comprehension how I could have done that to my own flesh and blood.

  Since coming back to this area — I did not chose the village of Turtleville for any special reason, I only did not want to live in St Anna — I have tried to avoid people as best as I could; I felt their piercing eyes could read my dark mind. Also, I have never been able to set foot in Bohemia since.

  I do not ask for forgiveness or understanding, Mr Thomas, I only ask for justice.

  I remain yours faithfully,

  W. Lawson

  Thomas looked up from the letter.

  “What do you think of all this?” he asked, waving the pages at Collins.

  “I still can’t get over the fact that he has a grandchild. I mean, I’ve searched through all the systems at our disposal. There was nothing! And when there is a grandchild, there has to be a child, as well. Where do all these people suddenly come from?” she shook her head, disappointed at herself.

  “Nobody we’ve spoken to, so far, mentioned a child or grandchild. Obviously, they didn’t live here or were not in close contact, otherwise someone would have seen them together and mentioned it. I mean, Kelly hung out with him all the time, and Ayodele didn’t say anything about him having a family, either. Lawson was definitely not registered as the father or you would have found it,” he said encouragingly.

  “Have you counted the names?” she asked.

  Thomas looked back at the list. He counted fifty-two names and looked at her questioningly.

  “Exactly. He wrote it was fifty-three kids in total, but one was not from Bohemia, and I bet that is this mysterious grandchild. At least he could have done us a favour by saying whether it was a boy or girl!” she replied furiously. “I understand that he’s ashamed of what he has done, but after admitting to all that shit, one more name wouldn’t really make a difference. I don’t know where to start searching if this was just a one-night stand and he was not registered as the father.”

  “Okay, let’s put the grandchild aside for a moment. From how many of those fifty-two names do we have the files for?”

  Collins had already started cross-referencing the names from Lawson’s list with her own findings from the hospital archives. Without looking up, she murmured, “So far, I can match twenty-three names, but it will surely take some time to locate all fifty-two.”

  “What else does this letter tell us?” He preferred letting her do the summary, only to match it with his own thoughts and ideas and to make sure they did not miss anything.

  “I think I’ve spoken to the young girl he mentioned,” Collins replied quietly. “Apparently, she was the only one who got money for it. I’m sorry for the kids. Imagine you already live in an orphanage, then you get sick, and then some fucking doctor steals your kidney — and you’re in pain for the rest of your life and don’t even know why. He should be hung up by the balls, but unfortunately someone beat us to it. And then he hypocritically kept donating money to organ transplantation charities and orphanages to regain peace of mind. Obviously, it didn’t work. He got the money he donated from the sale of the stolen organs in the first place.”

  “Okay, apart from that, what does it tell us about his murderer?”

  She sank back in her chair, chewing her lip and thinking. “Hmm… He wrote that he felt haunted by a shadow. Do you think it was his attacker following him during his last days?”

  Thomas nodded. “Yes, I think Lawson knew someone had recognised him and wanted to confront him with his past. Both Myers and Ayodele said he was paranoid about being followed. And I think before Lawson had a chance to send the letter off his murderer paid him a visit.”

  “But Ayodele said he sounded extremely happy on the night she called.”

  “Assume the killer is on this list,” Thomas said, tapping the piece of paper in front of him, “then he observed Lawson for a while, got to know his habits, and then showed up on his doorstep. They talked about the past, Lawson admitted to his mistakes, begged for acceptance of his apology, maybe even offered some money. The murderer played along until Lawson was relaxed enough to trust him. Then he lured him outside and struck with the epee.”

  “Okay, but what does the letter tell us about the murderer then?” Collins asked.

  Thomas smiled. “A lot.”

  “No, it just tells us that all the suspects we’ve had so far are redundant. It wasn’t the Bohemian drug brothers, they are too young and not on the list; and it wasn’t Kelly, apparently he didn’t know what was going on. At least, he wasn’t mentioned in the letter. And I assume the mayor is off the hook, too?”

  Thomas was deep in thought. “Yes, for the moment. I’ll talk to Vincent Dobson again tomorrow. He is still hiding something, and I want to know what. But getting back to our suspect… come on, Collins, think about it!” He looked at her encouragingly.

  “Enlighten me with your endless wisdom or leave it,” she snapped back.

  “Lawson wrote he had never been back to Bohemia. So where did those receipts from the supermarket and the snack bar come from? I checked his cupboards last time — no Bohemian brands.”

  “I would assume the attacker put them in his pockets to direct our attention to the Bohemians. Hang on… so the Belka brothers were used as scapegoats! They said there was someone in the forest following them. That person, who scared them so much, must’ve seen where they stashed the drugs in their hurry to leave, took them, and… do you think that was the same person who visited Lawson that evening and then killed him?”

  “Yes, I think that was all done by one and the same person. He put the drugs in the flowerpot, knowing the fingerprints of the two Bohemian drug dealers were on the bag, and just to make sure we would make the connection, he put the receipts in Lawson’s pockets — making it look like he was a regular in Bohemia. We probably should have thought that Lawson helped push drugs; who would suspect an old man? And then a deal went wrong, and Belka lost his temper and killed him.”

  “So, we urgently need footage from the snack bar and the supermarket cameras, where the receipts were from, and then we need pictures of all fifty-two organ victims, possibly even family and friends, too. I’m positive there will be a match.”

  Thomas looked at his watch. It was already six o’clock. “Right, go home now and get a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow will be dedicated to research. By the end of the day, I want information and photographs of all fifty-two patients, and maybe a trace to that grandchild; we have to start there. And I’ll talk to these other doctors and nurses mentioned in the letter. I hope they can help us.”

  Collins nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”

  “Will you stay another night at David’s house?”

  She pretended to be busy with her boots, head stuck under the table. “Yeah, I guess. Was all right.” Thomas did not want to wind her up again, so he didn’t comment, but apparently Collins sensed the tension and quickly changed the subject. “What about Myers’s letter?” she asked.

  “What about it? He says he did not kill Lawson, but admits to being his partner in crime, and could not have lived with the public humiliation of being named and shamed as a corrupt and heartless police officer who crippled children — so he chose to kill himself instead. What I don’t know is whether they talked about Lawson wanting to confess. But as soon as Lawson was murdered, Myers knew we would find out the truth about their past sooner or later, which explains his reverted depression. He saw his time slipping away. The suicide was his emergency brake. He had seen Kelly’s gun when interviewing him and stole it.”

  Collins tilted her head bac
k. “Okay. But what makes you so sure Myers was telling us the truth? Say, somehow, he found out about the letter, and they argued; Lawson still wanted to go public, but Myers refused. He visited Lawson at his cabin and then killed him. Where did Myers get the letter from in the first place, anyway?”

  “Myers didn’t kill him. He has an alibi. The night Lawson was murdered, Myers’s wife had a stomach bug and didn’t sleep. He was with her all night. Regarding the letter, he must have found it in Lawson’s cabin when we went there together on Monday morning,” Thomas said, trying to recall the situation. “I remember I was in the kitchen, Myers was in the living room. When I came in, he was absorbed in a book from the bookshelf and pale as a ghost. And now that I think about it, he said Lawson had some great books about hunting. I didn’t think anything of it at the time and joked he could borrow one. He took it to the kitchen while I inspected the living room. He must have found the letter. My mistake, sorry. I should’ve checked, but who would have thought there was so much criminal energy in such a small village?”

  “Yep, you should’ve checked. Would’ve saved us a couple of days’ work,” Collins said, but a small grin betrayed her.

  “Right, let’s go home. Tomorrow we’ll gather all the information we can get about the remaining people from this list.” Thomas tapped the blotchy copy in front of him and wondered what mastermind had found out where Lawson was and developed this devilish plan to kill him.

  But he knew that every trace started with a mistake. And mistakes were always made.

  Leaving the receipts to divert suspicion, for example, was a mistake in his eyes. In today’s high-tech world, a receipt could always be traced back to its original owner.

  Together with the list of names, it was their most promising angle at that moment, and it needed to be explored thoroughly and quickly.

  Thomas had a strong feeling that Lawson’s confession would lead them to a breakthrough in the case. He just could not put his finger on a name, yet. None of the names on the list meant anything to him, except one — Mrs Smetana’s cousin, Roman Jelínek. But he would rely entirely on Collins’s research skills; after all, she had unearthed the topic of organ transplantation in the first place.

  Thomas switched off the lights and closed the door behind him.

  24

  OUTSIDE, the sky was clear, and Thomas could barely breathe in the freezing cold air. He shielded his nose and mouth with his gloved hand while walking across the unlit car park behind the police station. Collins had already left.

  He quickly scraped the ice off the car windows, his fingertips growing numb with every minute he was out in the cold; his cheeks hurt like someone was sticking tiny pins into his skin.

  Inside the car, the thermometer showed minus sixteen degrees.

  He turned right at the exit of the car park towards the hospital. The road was clear of snow and other cars. Nobody went outside unless urgently necessary.

  Kate was already waiting for him in the lobby, and jumped in the passenger’s seat after he pulled up in front of the main entrance.

  At a red traffic light, they kissed as passionately as their restraining seat belts and thick clothing would allow. A rosy colour had returned to her cheeks, and Thomas believed her when she said she was feeling a lot better and was happy not to spend the night in hospital; otherwise, her afternoon had been quite boring. Only occasionally had a doctor come in and pinched her with some more needles.

  She asked about Thomas’s day, and he suddenly felt how tired he really was. What he had witnessed within the last twelve hours had been more than what ‘normal employees’ experience in their entire work life. But he had learnt to contain his feelings and fears, and even though he liked Kate very much, it would take him a long time to open up to her about his thoughts and emotions. Instead, he replied that indeed it had been a long day and that they were making good progress with the case.

  Thomas was sure they’d catch the killer within the next forty-eight hours — max. They now knew where to look, and soon he would have more time available to spend with her. Kate could not contain her joy and squeezed his hand tightly, beaming up at him.

  They talked about the freezing cold and the slippery roads, which led to congestion at the hospital. Elderly people with broken bones, and young car crash victims, were the most frequent customers.

  When they arrived at Kate’s home, Thomas informed her that his DS was staying at David’s house, in case she was wondering why the lights were on. Kate nodded indifferently and pulled him behind the evergreen hedge surrounding her property, where they were safe from prying eyes.

  There they kissed for a long time.

  The condensation of their breath slowly dissolved into thin air above their heads. Thomas felt the pressure of the day receding. He could have stood there all night, kissing and hugging her tightly, and protecting her from an evil world. Her warm lips tasted fruity, and even after a day in the hospital, he could still smell her beautiful perfume.

  “Promise me you won’t scare me like that again,” he whispered.

  She smiled and cuddled up to his chest. “I’ll do my best. However, I really enjoy this kind of nursing care.”

  He laughed. “Once this case is solved and Sky is back with her father, you can have this kind of care every day if you like. You can even save the entire opening act.”

  “Can’t wait for that day to arrive,” she whispered back.

  They kissed again, and he led her to the front door. “Are you sure I can leave you alone? I would love to stay, but I can’t leave Sky at my neighbour’s forever and… well, it’s just not the right time to, you know… tell her about us.”

  “Please, don’t worry. I’m fine, honestly. I’ll put my phone on my nightstand, and if there is only the slightest touch of unease, I’ll call you immediately.”

  “Do that. Goodnight.”

  Thomas waited until she was inside and the door had clicked shut. He then peered around the hedge to make sure nobody, especially his sergeant, could see him and quickly trudged back to his car.

  At home, he still could not park his car in the garage as the bins and firewood blocked the way, but at least he did not have to shovel any snow or deal with frozen locks.

  Sky was over at Richard’s, and Thomas decided to be a little selfish and leave her there for another couple of minutes.

  In his kitchen, he found a pot with a note next to it reading: Dear Nat, to ensure you have a warm dinner when you come home, I have saved you some roast hare. Allison.

  He smiled, feeling extremely blessed with his dear neighbours, and put the pot on the hob.

  Moments later, with a full plate of steaming food and a big cup of mulled wine in hand, Thomas retreated to his couch and watched the news. What he saw there, though, was exploitation, death, and corruption — a summary of his day. He switched off the TV and leaned back into the soft cushions.

  The air was filled with the quiet crackling of firewood and an aromatic birch smell. Suddenly, an incredible warmth and tiredness spread through his body. He decided to go to bed early.

  Slowly sipping his mulled wine, his thoughts drifted off to the bake sale and to kissing Kate for the first time that day. He had imagined it many times before, but the reality of it gave him shaky knees.

  Due to work responsibilities and, until a year earlier, his unfortunate physical fitness, the last girlfriend he had was more than three years ago.

  He liked Kate from the first moment he saw her, at a parents’ night at school.

  From then on, they had occasionally — and more or less accidentally — met while running in the woods, and talked about work and what little other social events took place in the village.

  But that day’s kiss was quite a big step for them, and in a direction that Thomas definitely wanted to venture further in. He was looking forward to the coming week when Sky would be back with her father and Thomas could spend the evenings with Kate.

  His thoughts trailed to the day’s othe
r events: to the cabin with the gruesome finding of Robert Myers, who was a head shorter now; to Lawson’s letter revealing his sick atrocities; to Mrs Smetana and her dead cousin, and to all the other families that had lost loved ones; and to the murderer, who was still out there somewhere, and had so carefully planned the fake traces of the drugs and receipts.

  How much worse can a single day be? Thomas wondered.

  He took his empty plate and cup back to the kitchen, and was about to dash across the road to his neighbours when his phone rang. His best friend grinned at him from the display.

  “David?”

  “Hi, mate, I need your help,” a pained voice replied.

  “What happened? And since when are you such an early riser? Or have you not been to bed yet?”

  Thomas glanced at his watch. It must have been around three in the morning in Sydney.

  “Stop rambling, will you?”

  That was the David he knew, Thomas thought. “Okay, what happened?”

  “I wanted to get ready for my flight back home. It was meant to be a surprise for Sky. I would have been home late on Friday night in time for her birthday on Sunday.”

  “What do you mean by ‘would have’?” Thomas asked, feeling the heat of the mulled wine rush through his body, mixing with adrenaline.

  “There was a redback spider on the toilet seat last night,” David replied dryly.

  “And?”

  “I didn’t see it in the dark, and it bit me on the bum. They are bloody dangerous creatures, you muppet! Reception called an ambulance, and they took me to a hospital. And now I’m lying here with the worst cramps and headache and abdominal pain, you couldn’t imagine in your wildest dreams.”