What Burns Within

by Sandra Ruttan

  “Mrs. Bohner, I’m not going to lie to you. Without having rape-kit results and data from evidence recovery here at the scene, it will be virtually impossible for us to get a conviction.”

  She stared at him and blinked again, the color starting to drain out of her face.

  Ashlyn sat down on the couch, propped her foot up on a pillow and reached for the first folder. She wasn’t one to copy files and bring them home en masse. Typically, if a case had taken over her life, she’d be at the station anyway.

  But something had niggled at her over the past few days, and she’d packed a bag complete with most of the general information on the abductions and arsons. When Tain had taken her back to the station to change she’d remembered to bring the copied files with her, and she silently gave thanks to what ever sixth sense had kicked in to motivate her to collect the data in the first place.

  She opened the file on Julie Darrens and reached for a calendar and a pad of notepaper, her eyes already skimming the particulars noted inside, writing down June 14 across the top of the blank page and underlining it, flipping the calendar back two months and noting as well that Julie Darrens had gone missing on a Thursday.

  After she’d gone through the reports, Ashlyn set the file for Lindsay Eckert down, tapping her pen against the note pad resting on her leg, her fingers tugging their way through her hair.

  She pulled the calendar out from under one of the other files and started counting. Not weeks. Nothing triggering there. Days between abductions? No. The intervals were random, scattered. She had a fleeting glimpse, a memory of doing the same thing, months before, when the missing teenagers’ cases had been gathering dust on the shelves, right around the same time that the drug case was limping along on life support.

  She looked at the dates between when the two girls were found, but that didn’t help. They only had two.

  Ashlyn pulled out her arson summary, making a new list, circling July eighteen. Why wasn’t there an abduction for July eighteen? Was it possible there was a body they’d missed? She thought about all the open, missing-kids files that had been pulled because of this, but she couldn’t recall one being brought to her attention that had seemed to fit the pattern.

  Although she hadn’t had as much time as Tain to review all the files….

  She counted the days between Julie’s abduction and when they’d found her body. Exactly forty full days had passed. Then she counted the days between when Isabella was taken and when her body had been carried from the burning building.

  Forty full days.

  She rested her cheek against her hand. It was something Craig had taught her, about looking at every angle on a case, even if it doesn’t make sense to you.

  Forty days.

  She got up without too much trouble, noticing it was even easier now to cross the room to her iMac. She turned it on, limping to the kitchen for a refill.

  It had to mean something. Random abduction dates, scattered locations the girls went missing from. Only two things connected that she could see. Fire and forty days between when they went missing and when they were found.

  Ashlyn sat down in front of her computer and clicked on the Safari icon, then typed in the keywords she wanted information about.

  Sims nodded. “One and the same.”

  “You’re positive?” Tain asked.

  “I even phoned the manager of the recreation center and got a description. Thick black glasses, bleach-blond hair, blue eyes, bit of a spindly freak. The manager’s words, not mine,” Sims added quickly.

  “So his purpose in being at the recreation center isn’t to use the weights.”

  Sims stared at him for a moment, and Tain was convinced the man couldn’t have looked more surprised if Tain had grown a second head. “Guess not. He used to work for a photographer’s studio, taking school pictures and group photos and stuff. Six months ago he started working at Cargo Clearance.”

  “Interesting.”

  Sims didn’t pause as long this time. “It gets better. He took school photos at Holy Cross Elementary and Sacred Heart Elementary last fall. I double checked. Wilson took the school photos of them that have been printed in all the papers.”

  “Please tell me he connects to Burnaby Fine Arts.”

  Sims’s smile faded. “Sorry. At least, not that I’ve found so far, but I’ll check prior years. Could be she was in another group or something.”

  “Do we know why he changed jobs?”

  “No.” Sims passed Tain a slip of paper. “The manager wasn’t very keen to talk about it. I figured some face-to-face persuasion might be in order.”

  Tain folded the paper and put it in his pocket, then snapped his fingers. “She was a Girl Guide.” Tain turned and walked away.

  Ashlyn unlatched the chain lock and opened the door.

  “How’s the leg?” Adrian asked, handing her a bundle of roses. She stepped back, setting the bouquet on the kitchen counter.

  “Almost good as new.” She led the way into her living room and sat down.

  “But you stayed home anyway? That’s not exactly the impression I had of you.”

  Ashlyn felt her nose wrinkle, and her neck itched. “I was ordered to take a day off.”

  “Ah,” he said, surveying the room, glancing out the patio doors. “So this is home?”

  “For now. How did you find out where I lived?”

  He sat down in a chair opposite from her, close to her computer. “I have my sources. Seriously, I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

  “Shouldn’t I be the one sending you an apology instead of you bringing me flowers?”

  Adrian offered a sheepish grin. “Yeah, I suppose.”

  “You were pretty choked.”

  “And I had all night to think about what I might do if I was working on a case like this.” The smile faded. “I remember Carl bringing out that body, that one girl. It must get to you.”

  She guessed he could understand, on some level, but this wasn’t something she was going to talk to him about. “Can I get you something? Tea, juice? My coffee maker is the third appliance this week that’s gone on strike, and I haven’t had a chance to deal with any of them.”

  “I’ll give you the number for Bob. He’s the repairman we use at the hall.”

  “That would be great.”

  His eyes surveyed the room, the few scattered, framed photographs she’d managed to get up since moving in, the lingering boxes waiting to be unpacked, stacked against the far wall, the plants gasping for water. Adrian’s gaze lingered on the computer. “What on earth are you looking at?”

  “Something about forty-day calendar cycles used in ancient times. Apparently some are advocating for the return to a forty-day month.”

  “Like the people who pushed for a change in daylight savings time?”

  “It’s not quite the same. I suppose there’s a group out there voicing an opinion for just about everything.”

  He scratched his head. “Shame more people don’t lead productive lives instead of whining about when to move clocks forward and back. What are you reading about this for, anyway?”

  She bit her lip and looked slightly to the left of him. “Just something that came up.”

  “With your case.”

  Ashlyn looked at him. “What makes you say that?”

  He nodded at the coffee table. “Files, calendars, notepaper…You’re working.” He held up his hands. “Relax. I’m not here to give you grief.”

  “Good. I heard more than enough from Tain and Daly yesterday.”

  A shadow crossed his face, his eyes betraying some darker thoughts that had surfaced in his mind, but the look passed almost as quickly as it appeared. “So, the forty-day month thing? How does that tie in?”

  “That’s what I’m trying to figure out. It might not be the calendar. I’m looking for anything significant about forty-day time frames.”

  “You mean like it raining for forty days and forty nights?” he asked.

 
“What’s that from?”

  His eyes widened. “Never heard of Noah’s Ark?”

  She felt her cheeks flush. “Of course. It’s on Mount Ararat or something, but every time people try to prove it’s there, they get shot at or kidnapped or struck by lightning.”

  Adrian leaned back for a moment, looking at her without speaking. Finally, he gave her a small smile. “Is it the job?”

  “Is what the job?”

  “The skepticism? I didn’t peg you for such a cynic.”

  “I don’t know much about religion. Noah’s Ark is—” She shrugged.

  “Biblical.”

  “I think even I’d worked out that much. What else can you tell me?”

  “Just that when God judged the world, He sent rain for forty days and forty nights. I vaguely recall something about other references to the number forty, but it’s been a long time since I was in Sunday school.” He shrugged, smiled and stood up to leave. “I’d say you should talk to my cousin, but I think you deal with enough nutcases in your job already.”

  “Your cousin a priest or something?”

  Adrian laughed. “You equate priests with crazy people? You really are a skeptic. No, my cousin was pretty hardcore. Spent a fair bit of time with the born-again Christians before getting drawn into some fringe group.”

  “Born-again Christians aren’t fringe?”

  “Okay, before getting into an even more bizarre group than them. Satisfied?”

  “So he knows a lot about biblical…stuff?”

  Adrian shrugged. “Spends a few hours a week loitering around the station working on his car, telling me about the wickedness of the world and how we’re all going to be baptized to be purified before God.”

  “Family dinners must be fun.”

  The smile was back. “Slightly better than a root canal.”

  “Yes, but the department has a dental plan. Eradicating religious programming isn’t covered.”

  “Does that mean I couldn’t persuade you to come over on Sunday?” Before she had a chance to respond he put up his hands. “Look, if you’re interested you know where to find me.”

  He walked out of the room, and she listened as the door opened and shut behind him, then got up to lock the door.

  Daly gripped the arms of his chair, venting his anger into his fingers as Lori jumped to her feet.

  “You’re just saying that because you never wanted me on this case,” she said.

  His words came out controlled, calculated, despite her purple shade. “Sit back down and be glad I’m willing to overlook that remark, all things considered.”

  Lori did as she was told, her back as rigid as ever, shoulders squared, but some of the color had faded from her face.

  “You aren’t ready to come back to work.”

  “I disagree.”

  Daly ignored her. “Even if you were ready, you would have to be reassigned.”

  “That’s ridiculous! Nobody knows more about this case than I do.”

  “And nobody is more likely to let her emotions override her judgment.”

  “When have you ever seen me do that on the job?”

  “This isn’t about your track record, Lori, which I have to say isn’t stellar. You and Craig have had problems since the beginning.” He held up his hand to silence her. “Right now our priority is solving this case as quickly as we can and making sure that we can get a conviction. Your participation in the investigation now would compromise that. A good defense attorney—”

  “Fucking lawyers.”

  “We have to be realistic here. Your participation in this case could jeopardize an arrest.” Daly stood, moved around to the other side of the desk and perched on the edge of the desk near her. “Go home. Take care of yourself. Spend some time with your family, friends, people who care about you and can support you.”

  She looked up at him, her eyes blazing, her cheeks ghostly white. “Don’t make me go over your head.” She hissed the words.

  He lifted his hand. “There’s the door. I’m not going to be coerced or pressured into making a decision that I know is wrong.”

  Lori stared at him, her mouth drawn in a harsh line, her back stiffening even more. She stood. “This isn’t over,” she said. She yanked the door open, then slammed it behind her with enough force to rattle the windows.

  “Wha…what do you want?”

  Tain noted that Alex Wilson’s shoulders tensed, that his hand had dropped and not opened the screen door once he recognized the person standing on the front step, and the quick glance back toward the room he’d come from, as though hoping what ever was in there was securely hidden from a nosey police officer’s eyes.

  “Do you mind if I come in for a minute?” Tain reached for the handle.

  Alex hastened to open the door and stepped outside instead, blocking the handle from Tain’s reach. “What’s this about? I told you everything.”

  “Just some follow-up questions. You have a membership at the rec center, the one on Twenty-fourth Ave.”

  “So?”

  “Go there often?”

  Alex Wilson folded his long, thin arms across his chest. “What are you? The bulk-up patrol?”

  “It was just a question.”

  They stared at each other for a moment before Alex shrugged his right shoulder. “Often enough.”

  “Sunday night?”

  “What about it?”

  “Were you there Sunday night?”

  “What do you care if I was?”

  “A girl went missing from Southside Recreation and Fitness Center on Sunday night.”

  “I didn’t find her brother in the parking lot.”

  “Nobody said you did.”

  “Then what do you want?”

  All the anger and suspicion Tain had expected in their first encounter that hadn’t been there, that had been suppressed under some form of guilt and fear, was surfacing now. Alex Wilson seemed to feel more comfortable on his home turf.

  “Well, you’re a member of that fitness center, and we’ve been trying to eliminate people from our suspect list for abducting Lindsay Eckert.”

  “What’s that got to do with me?”

  “We recovered some fingerprints from the scene, but, you know, there’s plenty of passing traffic and such in a place like that. I was wondering if we could take your prints for the purpose of eliminating you, so we don’t waste time looking for someone we know couldn’t have taken her.”

  Alex’s mouth hung open, a thin slit of darkness against his pale skin.

  “Would that be okay?” Tain asked.

  “Oh, I uh, I thought…Do I need a lawyer?”

  “You didn’t grab Taylor or Lindsay or those other girls, did you?”

  He shook his head.

  “Then there’s nothing for you to worry about, is there? Just come down to the station and give them this,” Tain said, removing a letter from his pocket. “Then, hopefully, we won’t have to bother you again.”

  Alex took the letter and disappeared inside his house, promising to stop by on his way to work.

  Tain walked back to the car. There was something going on with that guy.

  “Now, you girls stay right here and don’t move.”

  At first, nothing seemed unusual about that order to Taylor. There had been a few times that he’d made them sit for hours on the cold floor, usually after repeating the Pledges, as he called them, over and over and over again until the only thing she could hear in her head was the same words ringing in her ears.

  Delilah—Lindsay—had even done well at sitting still this time. Taylor guessed the sores made it hard, but she was really trying. She hadn’t been lashed yet today.

  The door opened again, and a girl—the same girl Taylor had seen once before—walked in, carrying a tray.

  She had long black hair and enormous dark eyes. Her skin wasn’t dark-dark, not like what Taylor’s mom called black, but it wasn’t white either.

  The girl set the tray down in front of
them and then sat down on the ground, passing out the fancy cups and plates.

  “You are ready now,” she said. Taylor thought she sounded smug, like a schoolteacher who thinks you’ve finally got something you should have figured out ages ago.

  The girl passed out the plates, thin wisps of steam rising from the bread, which smelled so good Taylor’s stomach actually gurgled. There were pats of butter on the side of the plates, with small, flat wooden spoons.