by Vicki Delany
Lucky came back, waving pink cloth in her hands. “Moonlight’s pajamas. Will they do?”
“Sure,” the Mountie said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Thanks, Mrs. Smith. I’m Adam Tocek.”
“You have a dog?”
“Yes.”
She’d run out of the room, repeating to herself, over and over, that she had a task to do. Find something of Moonlight’s. Give the dog something to follow. Don’t stop and think. Don’t cry. She’d grabbed the bottoms of Moonlight’s summer pajamas, the ones with a Winnie-the-Poo motif.
She handed over the pajamas. Constable Tocek’s face might have colored, just a little, as he accepted the clothing.
Winters and the Mountie headed toward the door. Lucky began to follow, but Winters turned to her and suggested she wait by the phone.
She filled the kettle, plugged it in, took out the big old tea pot that she only used when she had lots of visitors, threw four bags of tea in, took down mugs, and filled bowls with milk and sugar. There were peanut butter squares in the freezer. They’d been there all summer, but they should still be good. She laid the squares on a colorful ceramic plate.
The store-bought lasagna, scorched across the top and blackening around the edges, sat on top of the stove. Lucky’s stomach turned over and tears filled her eyes. She tossed it into the trash.
A car pulled up and she looked out. Paul Keller, the Chief Constable. There might not be enough squares. She’d have to open a bag of store-bought chocolate chip cookies. Police officers were said to have hearty appetites. Perhaps she should make coffee as well as tea.
The phone rang and Lucky grabbed it before the first ring ended.
“Moonlight?” she shouted into the receiver.
“Just me, Jane. I was wondering if you’ve given any more thought to what we’re going to do about the war-resister petition. It seems to me…”
“Sorry, Jane. Gotta run.” Lucky hung up.
The kettle called for attention, and she filled the tea pot. She’d had the big brown pot almost as long as she’d had Moonlight. Perhaps longer. There was a chip in the handle, and the top had been replaced with one that didn’t match.
Paul Keller came in without knocking.
“Tea?” Lucky said.
“Tea?” he repeated.
“Would you care for some?”
“Oh, tea. Don’t go to any trouble.”
She waved a hand across the counter. “It’s all made.”
“Then tea would be nice.”
“Sit down. Please.”
He sat. Lucky Smith had been a thorn in the side of Paul Keller since he’d come back to his hometown of Trafalgar to take over as Chief Constable. She hoped that now, today, he wouldn’t remember all of that. They’d been at loggerheads many times, over a variety of issues. But she liked to think that, like warriors of old, they’d come to respect each other. As much as she hadn’t wanted Moonlight to become a police officer, Lucky’d feared that Paul would be opposed to hiring the girl because of her mother’s history. To his credit, he’d accepted Moonlight on her own qualifications.
She poured tea.
“Good dog,” Keller said.
Lucky blinked. Sylvester was still trying to force his way out of the pantry. “He’s upset at having his home invaded.”
Keller smiled. “I meant the Mountie dog. He’s got a good nose. They’ve taken him into the woods. Hopefully he can pick up a scent. If there’s anything fresh out there, human fresh, he’ll find it. Did you know that all police dogs are male? They’ve found that female dogs just don’t have enough aggression.”
“I remember that in ’68, the dogs were more than aggressive enough, thank you.” Now why on earth had she said that? It had nothing at all to do with what was happening outside, in her own backyard, right now.
“Is your husband home?” Keller asked.
“Andy? He’s at the store. It’s the busy season.” Even busier since Lucky hadn’t been coming to work.
“Did you, uh… tell him… about Molly?”
“He hasn’t heard from her. I thought it best not to worry him.”
“I see. Oh, tea. Yes, sugar. Thank you. No thanks.” He said to the offer of a square. “We’ve just come from the pot luck. Too much food. Although we didn’t get to dessert.” He reconsidered, took a square and bit into it.
As always, the scent of tobacco smoke radiated from Paul Keller like an aura. Lucky wondered if his wife had ever gotten used to it. Did his pajamas smell as bad?
Lucky stopped thinking about what the Chief Constable wore to bed, and started as someone shouted outside. But the shout wasn’t answered by other calls and her heart settled down.
She sipped her own tea. When she looked up, Paul was watching her. His brown eyes were full of sympathy. And something else, something she wasn’t sure she recognized. The moment passed and he looked away and said, “Call your husband, Lucky. He won’t be happy if he comes home to find us all here and not knowing what’s going on. Good cookie, this.”
“I guess you’re right,” she said.
It hadn’t been affection in his eyes, had it?
***
“I don’t think she went into the woods, or down to the road, recently,” Constable Tocek said. “Norman doesn’t seem to be getting a strong scent out here at all.”
Winters studied tire tracks in the gravel driveway. Lucky’s Firefly was parked in front of the garage. Andy Smith drove a compact Toyota. Fortunately the driveway was wide, and Lucky’s car hadn’t covered the set of tracks laid earlier. They were much larger, from an SUV or a pick up. He’d asked Ron Gavin, the RCMP forensics officer what he made of them.
“Lucky Smith’s a popular person,” Gavin said. Before coming out, he’d put on whatever clothes were at hand on his Sunday evening: uniform shirt over jeans that had once been worn to paint something white. “This is a busy home. Lots of people coming and going all the time.”
“I’m only interested in today.”
“We’ll do what we can.”
It was almost dark. There was a full moon, hanging bright and white in the western sky, and so far the sky was clear, which helped. But the search would have to be called off soon.
Winters called The Bishop and Nun and asked if Marigold was working. She was. He hung up. He hadn’t expected her to have anything to do with this in any event. He was pretty sure he’d put the fear of God, or himself, which was almost as good, into her. He’d sent their undercover guy to The Bishop Saturday night looking to make a serious buy. But Marigold had batted her eyelashes and pretended not to know what he was talking about. She hadn’t even told him where he could buy some pot.
Winters went into the kitchen. Lucky and Paul Keller were sitting at the big, scarred, wooden table. They weren’t looking at each other, but the air so full of emotion he could almost see it, like flashes of lightening jumping from one mountaintop to another.
Lucky lifted her eyes. They were heavy with worry.
“I’d like to ask you some questions, Lucky,” Winters said, pulling up a chair.
“Anything. Would you like some tea? I’ve made lots.”
“No, thank you. Tell me about Miller.”
“Miller?”
“I’ve a feeling he might be the source of all of this.”
“But he’s a baby.”
“You took Miller in when Ashley died. Have you had any unusual situations since then?”
Her laugh was tinged with panic. “Apart from not getting any sleep, and driving my daughter and my husband to distraction?”
He didn’t return the laughter. “Apart from that, yes. Think carefully, Lucky.”
She lifted her cup to her lips. She breathed in the scent of the tea but didn’t take a sip. “Moonlight thought someone might have been trying to break in one night.”
Keller sat up. “What?”
“Sylvester started one heck of a racket. Moonlight got up to see what was going on, and she said she’d heard the kitch
en door. The motion light over the garage was on. Andy thought a bear had been in the yard. I’ve heard of bears getting doors open and into houses, we all have. I don’t lock up before we go to bed, not usually. Moonlight suggested I start locking the doors at night.”
“A good suggestion,” Keller said.
“Anything else?” Winters asked.
“Nothing I can think of. Other than that fool woman trying to take Miller.”
“What fool woman?”
“Jody Burke, from the Ministry of Children and Families. You sent her out here, Paul. That wasn’t nice.”
Keller colored. “I didn’t send her, Lucky. I merely asked Dave Evans to escort her, as she’d requested.”
Winters’ nerve ends stood to attention. Jody Burke. The woman whom a long-serving district social worker had never heard of.
“She wanted you to relinquish the baby?”
“Yes. It was quite odd, I thought, how much she wanted me to surrender Miller. I know enough about these things to know that the province is desperate for good foster families. I thought they’d be happy I’d taken him in.”
“Do you know why she wanted him?”
Lucky shook her head. Strands of red and gray hair flew around her face. “I assumed she doesn’t approve of my anti-war or anti-development stance. People are getting too polarized these days. I wasn’t entirely surprised that someone would try to take the baby because I want to see the Grizzly Resort shut down.”
“Excuse me.” Winters almost ran out the door. He flipped his cell phone open and punched in the number. “Ray, I want everything you have concentrating on a woman by the name of Jody Burke.” He spelled the name. “Start with the Department of Children and Family Development. I want to know if they have an employee by that name, and if so where she can be contacted. If they can’t help you, find her. She has to be staying somewhere in the Trafalgar area. Call Dave Evans, he’s searching the woods with the Mounties. He accompanied Burke to the Smith home a few days ago. She might have mentioned where she’s living.”
“It’s a Sunday, John. No one who works for the government is going to be answering the phone.”
“Then call the Minister and put him on it, if you have to. Burke has Molly. I’m sure of it.” He hung up.
Now all he had to do was find Jody Burke.
Chapter Twenty-eight
Constable Molly Smith could have taken him out, easily. A kick to the knees or the balls and he’d be down for the count. But his partner, by far the more dangerous of the two, still held the gun as well as the screaming baby.
A man had come out of the trailer as soon as they drove up, as if he’d been expecting them. The setting sun was in his eyes, and he lifted a hand to shade them. Smith recognized him, but she wasn’t sure from where. He was in his forties, heavyset, hair too thick and too black. His face was tanned and deeply lined and the bags under his eyes cast deep shadows.
He saw Smith, behind the wheel. Tense and no doubt pale in the driver’s seat. He looked in the back, and color drained from his face. “Are you out of your mind?”
Which was pretty much what Smith had been thinking ever since she’d turned from Miller’s pram to see a person standing in the doorway to the family room, pointing a gun toward her with a steady hand.
“This is a surprise. And not a pleasant one.” The voice had been calm. “When I saw that your car, and your father’s, was gone, I expected to find your mother here alone.”
“It’s not my car,” Smith had explained. “It’s Mom’s. She’s gone out. I don’t have a car.”
“Wish I’d known that earlier, but it can’t be helped now.” The .22 pointed straight at Smith’s chest. She gave a thought to her own weapon, bigger and more powerful than this one, locked away in the safe in her room.
It might as well be buried in Lucky’s vegetable garden.
“Back up. Stand by the window.”
“Why?”
“Never mind why. From now on you do everything I tell you, no questions. Move.”
Smith did as ordered. She felt the wall press against her back.
Without moving her eyes, or her gun hand, from Smith, Jody Burke crossed the floor to the pram. Her right arm shot out and she pointed the weapon directly at Miller’s head. “You twitch without permission, you do one thing I don’t tell you, and I’ll shoot him.”
Smith believed her.
“Turn around.”
“Look, you must know this isn’t a good idea. You want Miller, take him. What do I care? The kid’s a nightmare.”
“You got that right. If your mother was here, where she should be, I’d end it all now. But you, Constable, are another problem all together.”
Meaning, Smith surmised, that the search for the killer of a police officer would be much more intense than what appeared to be a robbery gone wrong, and would spread far beyond the boundaries of the Kootenays, or even British Columbia.
“I’ll tell them I didn’t see who it was. I’ll go upstairs…” to where her gun was… “and tell them I was sleeping and when I got up, he was gone. Poof. Like magic. You’ll be doing me a favor.”
“Don’t want him taking your inheritance?”
“I don’t have anything to inherit. I’m talking about something much more valuable—a good night’s sleep and home cooked meals.”
“You talk a good line, lady. But somehow I don’t believe you. You’d be happy to be rid of the brat, I don’t doubt that. But you won’t let me walk. You look like a cop with too much dedication to the job.
“Now turn around, like I said.”
“What do you want with him, anyway?”
“Enough talk. Turn around. I could shoot you now, but I’m thinking a change in strategy might be required. So you come with me. You’re a complication I don’t need, but easily remedied, I’m sure. Turn, or I’ll shoot the baby.”
Smith turned. She heard the springs of the old pram squeak as the weight inside shifted, Miller’s tone change as he was lifted up. Smith looked out onto the woods at the back of the house. A jay sat on the branch of a mountain ash. The tree was heavy with red berries.
“I’m holding him, and I have the gun against his fat head. You twitch and he’s dead. And then you’ll follow him to the sweet hereafter. Do you understand?”
“I understand.”
“Good girl. Now you can turn around. Walk through the kitchen. My car’s outside. Don’t look back and don’t do anything but walk. Get in the driver’s seat. The keys are in the ignition. I’ll get in the back with the monster. And off we’ll go.”
“Where?”
“Never mind where. I’ll tell you where. And cop?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t doubt for a minute that I’ll kill him. You want to be responsible for that, bring me down in a heroic confrontation, go right ahead. I’ll plead shock and fright and say that you misunderstood me, and be out in three years, if that. But Miller’ll still be dead. And your career along with him, after I’ve painted you as an overly eager rookie grabbing the chance to look heroic.”
Burke stepped back, taking herself well away from the path between Smith and the door. “Now, let’s go.”
They walked past the stairs, through the kitchen, and out the back door. As ordered, Smith got into the driver’s seat, and Burke and Miller climbed into the back. Smith adjusted the mirrors. Burke had lowered both the baby and the gun, so they were below the level of the windows.
“You do anything to draw attention to us, he’s dead. Go through town, toward Highway 3. I’ll tell you where to go from there.”
They drove down the narrow winding road through the forest to the highway. Across the black bridge over the wide Upper Kootenay River, toward the bustling town of Trafalgar. Smith’s heart pounded in her chest. What would she do if she saw a police car? Nothing. Burke’s voice was cool and calm, her hand steady on the gun. Smith had no doubt she’d kill Miller. That was probably her intention all along.
What could a th
ree month old baby have done that would make an adult woman want to kill him?
That, she’d worry about later.
If she lived long enough.
The town faded behind them. The Trafalgar City Police would be gathering at Barb’s home for their end-of-summer pot luck. Eating good food and drinking good booze. Unlikely anyone would notice Molly Smith’s absence. No one but Barb cared if Smith brought lasagna or not.
Lucky might briefly wonder where she’d gotten to. But she’d be so grateful that Moonlight was looking after Miller, she’d fall into bed and sleep until morning.
“Take a left,” Burke said.
Miller had stopped crying almost as soon as they got into the car. He’d fallen back to sleep and only gurgled to himself occasionally. Smart kid. It was as if he knew that Burke would smother him rather than listen to his noise.
“Now a right.”
They’d come to the billboard announcing that this was the location of the future Grizzly Resort. Eighty percent sold!!! Smith turned. The car rattled down the washboard road.
She stopped where the path ended. She’d been here before, the trailer that served as the offices of M&C Developments. One car was parked in the lot. A black BMW convertible, clean, slick.
“Turn off the engine,” Jody Burke said.
The man walked down the trailer steps. His greeting turning to shock at the sight of the young policewoman. “Are you out of your mind?”
Burke got out of the car; Miller nestled in one arm, the gun in the other hand. “Shut the hell up. I don’t see you having any brilliant ideas.”
“Here’s one. You don’t involve the cops. You do know who you’ve got there, right?”
“Too late.” Burke showed Smith the gun, and then stepped back. “Get out of the car.”
“This has gone way too far, Jamie,” the man said.
“It’ll have gone too far when I say it has. Get her out of the car.”
He opened the door. Smith stepped out. She tried to look the man straight in the eye, but his gaze slid to one side.
“This wasn’t my idea,” he mumbled. “I want you to know that.”
“Then don’t make it any worse. You and your wife…”
