by Jonas Saul
As she passed Barry’s driveway, the front of her house came into view.
She almost dropped the bag of food.
The inside light was on, the front door open.
She stopped and listened. Nothing moved in the dark.
Did he untie himself? If it wasn’t Barry, then why weren’t the police here? Unless the intruder is still inside.
Sarah ran for the Rankins’ house. She tried the locked garage window, but it wouldn’t budge. Then she moved around to the back. The sliding glass door that led out onto the deck was unlocked. She remembered something from a conversation about Joan’s previous tenant breaking into the Rankins’ house. Debbie was supposed to get their door fixed since the Rankins were still out of town.
She slid the door aside and stepped in. A dank odor assaulted her nose. She dropped her bag of food and her bottle of water, and pulled out Greg’s gun. After sliding the glass door shut, she headed for the front door of her rental home.
No police sirens pierced the night. Only crickets and the sounds of summer joined her as she walked to her front door. With every nerve tingling, she checked behind her before entering the house. She pushed her front door open the rest of the way and stepped inside. Her computer was where she’d left it. Nothing seemed to be touched.
She waited and listened to the house. With her back to the front closet, she closed her eyes and focused on her ears.
Nothing. Not even a faucet dripped.
She made her way through the kitchen, planting every step on the Italian tile floor softly.
She took one more check over her shoulder at the living room and kitchen and then started down the stairs, Greg’s gun leading the way.
When she got to the bottom of the stairs, she gasped. Her knees almost gave out. A sudden rush of what she was looking at and the consequences flooded her consciousness.
Barry Ashford was dead.
But not just dead. Mutilated. The upper part of his body was still affixed to the metal chair.
She moved closer and walked around the body. Someone had shot Barry several times and cut his legs off at the base of his underwear.
Who could do such a thing?
The implications of this were too horrible to comprehend. There were people who saw her take him in her Jeep. Her fingerprints were all over the place. She had rented this house and prepared the basement for Barry’s interrogation.
But never to actually kill him.
That was all threatened in the effort of gaining the truth from him. The darker truth.
Unless Barry’s killer was that darker truth Vivian spoke of.
Whoever it was had used this opportunity to break into her house, kill Barry and make it look like Sarah had done it.
Her cell phone vibrated.
She took a quick peek.
Aaron.
She slipped the phone away. Not now. Maybe in a few days when this was all over, but not now.
Who could have done this to Barry and who knew he was here?
Greg and Lesley Wright.
They were the only ones she could think of.
But wouldn’t they involve the police now that Barry was dead?
As if to answer her question, the distant sound of a police siren filtered down to her from outside.
She had to leave. There was no time to review the DVR. No time to discover who had done this. Cops don’t respond well to the murder of one of their own. Especially not one murdered in such a brutal fashion. If she was found inside by the body it would probably result in her own murder.
She ran for the stairs, knowing that whoever did this could still be in the house. At the top of the stairs, she stopped and shot a glance around the corner. Her kitchen and living room were still empty, but now red and blue lights flashed across the walls.
They were outside but they hadn’t shouted for her to come out yet.
She grabbed her laptop and cord, slipped the gun in the back of her pants, and ran onto the back deck.
“Sarah,” someone yelled from the front of the house.
She jumped over the deck’s railing and landed hard. She almost twisted an ankle but caught herself and ran for the Rankins’ house.
As she entered the sliding door at the Rankins’ house, she heard them shout her name again.
She set her computer down and found a broom in the laundry room. She twisted the end off, discarded it and used the pole to secure the defective sliding door so no one else could follow her inside.
In the dark she used her hands as eyes as she walked through the Rankins’ unfamiliar house, navigating her way upstairs until she could look through their blinds at the action taking place outside.
Under the large bay window at the front of the Rankins’ house, there were two small ones which were used to help ventilate the room on hot summer days. She opened the one on the right, sat on their carpeted living room floor, shoulder against the wall, ear to the screen, and listened to the frenzy of activity as they discovered Barry Ashford’s mutilated corpse in her basement.
Deborah Ashford exited her own house. When three RCMP officers surrounded her, she nearly fell over but one of the men caught her. It would be horrible to learn of her husband’s death this way.
More sirens approached.
A man dressed in a suit and tie walked toward the Rankins’ driveway. He spoke rapidly into a cell phone. Something about charging Greg Wright as an accomplice to first degree murder.
Sarah’s stomach dropped.
Accomplice? Wasn’t he involved in Barry’s murder? If Greg didn’t do it, then who killed Barry?
“Yeah, I understand,” the man shouted into the phone. “Greg has been in custody ever since he was picked up at the hospital. Barry’s body was just found in Sarah’s basement.” The man choked back a sob and wiped at his face. “He’s torn apart, man. His fucking legs were cut off. I mean, who does that sort of thing? Greg helped Sarah abduct Barry. He goes down for this, too.”
The man turned toward the arriving ambulance.
The noise of the sirens blocked most of the rest of what he was saying, but Sarah caught a few words like, kill her and she will die for this.
She didn’t have to hear it all to know what any cop would think and say when one of their own was cut down in such a horrific way.
“Hey, sis,” Sarah whispered. “You think you could help me out here? I might be in a lot of trouble. The way things are looking, I don’t see a way out.”
When no numbing came, no sign of a message, Sarah understood she was on her own. She had to believe that Vivian had not abandoned her, only that Sarah was on the right path.
As crazy as that sounded, she had to stay on the right path.
At least that was what she wanted to believe.
The alternative meant death by cop or a Canadian prison for a very long time.
Chapter 25
The door to the small room banged open so hard, it bounced off the wall and Detective Lang had to grab it before it smacked back into him.
“Guess what?” Lang shouted.
Greg raised both hands. “What?”
“Your friend, Sarah, is now being hunted for first-degree murder.”
That hit Greg as hard as a fist to the solar plexus. This time when he spoke, it wasn’t as cocky. “What?”
The detective slammed the door shut behind him and walked up to the table, bumping it with his thigh.
“RCMP Officer Barry Ashford has been found dead and mutilated in the basement of a house Sarah was renting. He was shot three times and then someone cut his finger off and both his legs.” He leaned closer to Greg, his hands flat on the table. “Did you hear me? Cut his fucking legs off. They’re missing. She stole his legs. Can you believe it?” He leaned back.
“I, ahh, what?” Greg couldn’t find his voice. What did that mean for him? How could Sarah have done that? And why the hell would she cut his legs off?
“And you know what the creepy thing is?” Lang asked.
; Greg offered a blank stare as a response.
“It was Barry’s wife that saw Sarah enter her house with Barry’s wrists tied and a shirt over his head. She called it in. When we got there, Barry was already dead.”
“Why are you telling me—”
“Because the charges against you just increased to you being an accomplice to murder,” Lang shouted. “You entered The Garden of Eden together. Barry was kidnapped and murdered. You’re as guilty as she is.” The detective rolled his tongue around in his mouth and spit a gob of phlegm on the floor. “A cop was killed tonight and it’s your fault as much as the woman who killed him. You’re finished. Done for. You will never live a normal life again. You had better stop stalling and start talking or you might die in here.” Lang turned to the two-way glass. “Turn that thing back on.”
When he returned his gaze to Greg, the rage on his reddened face was as if Lucifer smiled back at him. His blood cooled and he wondered if he would die in the interrogation room chair.
“I’ll talk.” Greg found his voice.
The detective pulled out a chair and sat. “Start talking and telling. Tell me everything. Start at the beginning.”
“It all started in the Garden of Eden—”
“Seriously? You want to joke with me?”
Greg cleared his throat. “No, I’m serious, the Garden of Eden Massage Studio. I wasn’t talking about creation theory.”
Lang tilted his head. “Of course. I knew what you meant. Carry on.”
“Can I have a water?”
“Water!” the detective yelled.
The door opened a moment later and the girl who interrupted them before about the phone call stepped in, set a glass on the table and promptly left without setting eyes on Greg.
He drank half the glass in three gulps, placed it on the table, and told the detective everything, going over all the details of Lesley’s violation, the flash blooding events in the back of the Garden of Eden, all the way up to Maxine Freeman’s disappearance and the recent discovery of her body. He concluded with why Lesley tried to kill herself on the bridge a few days ago and how Barry was helping her along with her suicide when they broke in to the back room of the Garden of Eden.
“I did nothing wrong,” Greg said. “All I’ve ever tried to do was keep my business afloat, stay out of trouble and steer my sister from the Garden of Eden. But Barry kept pulling her back in. The break-ins were all him. He stole my company records and only broke into homes my company cleans.” Greg looked down at his hands. “It was all his fault. But I never meant for anyone to be killed.” He looked up. “That’s not in me. If it was, I would’ve shot Barry when I saw him about to rape my sister.”
Detective Lang got up from the table and walked to the door.
“That’s all I need. Thank you, Greg. You’ve been a big help.”
“So can I leave?”
“All you’ve done is tell us why you wanted Barry killed. It’s a little thing we call motive. You also told us how you did it by recruiting a female hit man from the States.” The detective clapped his hands. “Well done.” He almost shut the door, then stopped. “To answer your question. You can leave this building when you’re shackled and suited up for the maximum security facility where you’ll meet your new girlfriend, Bruce.” He shook his head. “Fucking pathetic.” He closed the door and the lock clicked.
Then Greg cried.
Chapter 26
Sarah monitored the activity in the front of her house throughout the initial hours from the Rankins’ living room floor, until eventually, somewhere after midnight, when the emergency vehicles, the coroner, and friends and family of Deborah Ashford departed the area, leaving one unmarked cruiser parked down the road.
Despondent and unaware of what Vivian’s intentions were, Sarah moved through the Rankins’ house without turning on any lights until she got downstairs to her computer. She took it inside the windowless laundry room, which was off from the main basement, and plugged in. Just in case a small amount of glare from her screen fed through the base of the door, she laid a towel down.
Once she found an unlocked Internet signal, she logged on and began browsing local news websites. Castanet was featuring a live update to the tragedy. The loss of a hero, the article said. The man who pulled a suicide victim from the lake only a few days ago has been found murdered in McKinley Landing. Reports indicated that the decorated police officer had been mutilated. The police were looking for Sarah Roberts, an American woman in her mid-twenties.
They had a picture of her downed BMW bike.
All her loved ones would now know that she was wanted for murder. Aaron and Parkman might show up. Her parents might come, which was exactly what she didn’t want. No more rescuing. She needed to work with her sister without outside help. Vivian had to deliver the information to Sarah in a way that didn’t involve others because it was too dangerous. Aaron and Parkman couldn’t continue to come running every time something went wrong. It made her feel like a lost teenager or a stray dog.
Her phone vibrated.
Aaron.
She had to answer this time. If she didn’t, he would come for sure.
“Hi,” she said. “What time it is there?”
“Hey. It’s almost four in the morning.”
Hearing his voice sent a warmth through her, a longing that made her want him, want his strong arms wrapped around her. Maybe this had been a mistake. Maybe being away from him wasn’t healing her. It was hurting her.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“Bad time?”
“No.”
“I’ve called a few times,” he said.
“I know.”
Silence. He probably expected more from her, but she wasn’t in a giving mood. Images of Barry’s corpse, sans legs, flitted through her mind.
“You need me in Kelowna?” he asked.
If you only knew.
“I’m okay,” she said.
“Sarah?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m reading the news.”
“Good for you. Helps one keep up with world affairs.”
“Sarah?”
“Yeah?”
“This is Aaron.”
“I know.”
“Keep the smartass stuff for assholes who aren’t smart.”
“Okay.”
“You’re in the news.”
“Probably. When am I not?”
“Sarah.”
She waited. Almost a minute went by.
Then he said, in a soft, velvety whisper, “I love you.”
And she broke down.
He waited until her tears were whimpers and not wracking sobs as they were for a few minutes.
“Can I come and help?” he asked.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because this is something Vivian and I have to do.”
“How are you going to solve murder charges?”
“Is that what the news is saying?”
“You’re somewhat of a big name in Toronto. When the Toronto papers got wind of what was happening in Kelowna, they ran with it. A dead cop? In the house you rented? Witnesses claim to have seen you kidnap this guy from his business. The guy’s wife saw you force him into the house. Now you’re missing and every cop in the country is looking for you. I’d say it looked planned and executed diligently, which means you need help.”
“I didn’t do it.”
“I know that, but they don’t. And unless you arrange to turn yourself in, with a lawyer present, cops are liable to shoot on sight.”
“Someone else walked in the house and did it while I was buying groceries.”
“They won’t like that.”
“What?”
“Groceries aren’t a good defense. They won’t like that someone walked into the house you rented and shot and mutilated this guy while you were out getting something to eat. You’ll need more.”
“I know.”
&nb
sp; “What’s Vivian say about this?”
“Nothing yet.”
“Seems to me she got you into this, she’ll get you out. There’ve been lots of times things have looked terrible, but it all worked out. It always does.”
