Edie smiled at JC’s attempt at levity. As JC left the room, she turned to Skye, who had remained sitting next to her.
“The princess incident?”
Unexpectedly, Skye gave a short laugh. “Yeah. It’s a long story.”
“Sounds interesting. I’d love to hear it.”
Skye looked through the half wall of windows. JC was talking to a man in a dark suit. He looked serious. And pissed.
“Another time. Prepare for round one, Ms. Black.” Skye stood, and as she did, Edie felt the briefest brush of Skye’s fingers against her knee.
JC entered the room and introduced her to Superintendent Ryan Donaldson. He was middle-aged and fit, and he seemed to look through Edie as he talked. He did not even acknowledge Skye. Edie disliked him immediately. She tried to remind herself he was part of a team trying to solve this case.
“Ms. Black, I understand Constable Caldwell has read you in on our interest in your case. I have some questions for you about your relationship with Faina Kassis.”
“Go ahead, Mr. Donaldson. I’ll tell you anything you need to know.”
Donaldson had two hours of questions. Edie repeated what she knew about Faina, not even flinching as he tried to divine a deeper meaning in their friendship. He became obviously frustrated by her short responses to his questions about Russian arms dealers. She had no connection there, as far as she knew. At some point, JC brought her a tepid, terrible coffee and Donaldson was replaced by Singh, from immigration. His questioning was more direct, and he thanked her before he left. JC brought in a box of donuts with the third and last interrogator for the day, a woman named Dr. Crask. JC was decidedly stiff during that introduction for no reason Edie could fathom.
“Ms. Black, I appreciate that you’ve already been through several rounds of interviews already. I have only a few questions for you, if I may.”
Edie considered the politeness of the woman’s tone. She was dressed conservatively in grey and white, dark blonde highlighted hair pulled back in a half clip. Her eyes were dark and difficult to read.
“Go ahead, Dr. Crask,” Edie said with a similarly polite tone. She felt vaguely on edge but chalked it up to being tired.
“I’d like to know why the Russians chose you to carry information for them.”
The edgy feeling rocketed to anxiety in a heartbeat.
“Di, come on,” JC protested. Edie could feel Skye’s tension across the room but she remained silent, as she’d been through the other interrogations. Edie admired her ability to be present and invisible at the same time.
“Constable Caldwell, you may wait outside,” Crask said without taking her eyes off Edie.
“No fucking way,” JC said and all of a sudden she was the fierce soldier, her size somehow heightened by her anger.
“Now, Constable Caldwell.” Crask’s tone was ice.
“I’d like her to stay,” Edie said. She had no idea what was going on.
“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” Dr. Crask said.
Edie looked imploringly at JC, but she just shot Skye a look and left the room, leaving a heaviness in the air. Dr. Crask looked impassively at Edie, as if waiting for her to simply pick up the thread of a dropped conversation.
“I missed your title and role with the OPP, Dr. Crask. Maybe we can start there.”
Again with that tight, polite smile. “Certainly. I’m a psychiatrist with the behavioral sciences unit. I specialize in interrogation and information verification.”
Edie toyed with that phrase. “I’m curious about interrogation and information verification,” she said. “Does that mean you assist the OPP in ferreting out information and then evaluating its veracity?”
Dr. Crask didn’t blink. “That’s paraphrasing at best. But yes.”
Edie wondered what Crask made of the smile she gave her. She suddenly felt strong enough to take her on. “Could you repeat your original question, please?”
“I’d like to know why the Russians chose you to carry information for them.”
“Is that the prevailing theory, then? Are we treating hypothesis as fact?”
“That’s my assessment, yes.”
“Let’s go with the theory, then. I’d like to clarify your question. Are you asking me to read the mind of a person or group of people that I have not met?”
“Or that you are unaware of meeting.”
Edie considered challenging her on the point, but she must have had a reason to use the word unaware. Her accident, her questionable memory of the months after, the fogged gaps, whatever weakness was being exploited by sensory overload, her thoughts and dreams, music that made her sleep, questions in her ear and the answers, those lilting words…
Edie blinked rapidly. Crask, obviously attuned to nuances in body language, smiled triumphantly.
“You remember someone. Meeting someone. Tell me.” Her eyes were bright.
Music still played faintly through Edie’s mind. She felt the tug of sleepiness but shrugged it off. No way was she giving this woman anything. Edie didn’t trust her enough to open up about the lurking suspicions and pieces of information floating around in her head.
“Dr. Crask, I am being completely honest with you when I say I have zero recollection of meeting or talking to or discussing anything with a Russian national. Absolutely none.”
“But you thought of something,” Dr. Crask said. “I’d like to know what it is. It could be critical and you are unaware.”
Edie somehow kept from rolling her eyes. She hated condescension. “I’m considering all the things I may be unaware of, Dr. Crask. I will let you know if I think of anything that may be helpful. Right now, though, I think I need to call it a day. I’m no longer thinking clearly, which is obviously a problem given the import of what we’re discussing, isn’t it?”
“I’d like to reschedule,” Dr. Crask said quickly. “For a time that is convenient for you, so we may have more time to discuss those aspects of your memory that are…tenuous.”
It all sounded so easy. And Dr. Crask sounded conciliatory. But Edie trusted her even less than when she walked in the door twenty minutes before.
“Yes, that’s fine,” Edie said.
Dr. Crask stood and walked to the door. JC appeared on the other side immediately, and they had a short, intense conversation before Dr. Crask walked away. JC stood still, staring down at the floor.
Edie, feeling like she was witnessing something private, looked instead at Skye. She still hadn’t moved, but her eyes were beginning to come alive again. They warmed and brightened, deepened and opened. Edie stared transfixed as Skye morphed in front of her. Skye unfurled herself from her position at the back wall and walked toward Edie, finally dropping into the seat beside her. She seemed to be struggling with something.
“What?” Edie said.
“You’re amazing,” Skye murmured, almost too low for Edie to hear, almost as if she had whispered the words in her own head and hadn’t intended for them to escape.
JC walked back into the office, her eyes stormy. Skye snapped her head up.
“Who the hell was that?” Skye said.
“Dr. Diana Crask,” JC said bitterly. “She’s the gleeful acquisition of the superintendents. Cops hate working with her, but she gets results.”
“Her tactics are brutal. Like she has military training.”
JC managed to look even more miserable. “She does.”
“What?” Skye seemed taken aback. “Fucking hell, Caldwell. Is that your Diana?”
“She’s not my anything.” She looked furious. Then she seemed to rein herself in and she sat heavily in the chair. “Sorry, Edie.”
“Nothing to apologize for.”
“Full disclosure,” JC said, straightening in her chair. “Since we’ll all likely have to work together again on this. I had a brief and ill-advised relationship with Diana Crask a number of years ago. We’re still not particularly good at occupying the same space.”
“Ah, a terrible ex. That s
tinks.”
JC cracked a smile. “Understatement, Ms. Black.”
“Want me to kick her in the shins next time I see her?”
JC leaned back and laughed, and even Skye chuckled.
“No, but thank you for the offer.” JC adjusted herself in her seat. “Okay, I’m guessing you’ve exceeded your quota of questions today, and the higher-ups seem satisfied, for now at least, with the leads they’ve got. How about you guys hit the road, and I’ll come out and meet you tomorrow once I’ve got my kids off to school?”
“Yes,” Edie said. “That would be great. I have some thoughts I want to share with you guys.” JC looked interested and Edie held up a forestalling hand. “Let me manage your expectations a little. I have some bits and pieces I want to try and string together. Something my gut is trying to tell me. I’m hoping you two can help.”
“It’s a plan. We can also talk tomorrow about meeting with Ms. Kassis again.”
Skye clenched her jaw.
“We’ll work it out,” JC said as she stood. “I need to go sit in on a debrief. See you guys tomorrow.” She paused by the door. “Good work today, both of you.”
The office was silent, and a tricky kind of tired rose up in Edie. Energy and exhaustion, brightness and haze. She met Skye’s eyes.
“Ready to go, Ms. Black?”
“Ready to go, Major Kenny.”
Chapter Nine
Edie kept her eyes closed as Skye drove out of the city, onto the traffic-jammed Queensway, and finally out onto the rural highway. Skye coordinated with Sasha, ensuring they got out of the city without being followed, but Edie didn’t want to hear it. She drifted instead. She didn’t sleep, just processed the day in a way that hopefully meant her brain would lay down a clear memory she could retrieve again. Considering everything that had happened today, Edie felt like she was doing pretty well. This feeling of wellness was a revelation. Tired was simply tired, not a message from her body screaming she was not capable.
“I’m worried about Faina,” Edie said, opening her eyes to the grey highway and the deepening dusk.
“I know. So am I.”
“You are?”
“Yes. I’m worried she’s being held against her will. I’m worried about her bruises. I’m worried we shouldn’t have left her there today. I’m worried she’s in danger, and we could have done something about it.”
Edie didn’t know what to say.
“I’m also worried,” Skye continued, “that she’s not exactly what she seems. I’m worried she’s part of an ambush, whether she knows it or not. I’m worried because she still presents danger to you. And my whole job right now is to control your exposure to harm.”
Control your exposure to harm. Edie hated when Skye disappeared behind this vaguely military talk. She covered herself up in it like camouflage.
Skye’s phone, propped on the front console of the Jeep, began to vibrate. The screen flashed the number of the person trying to video call.
“Shit.” Skye glanced at the screen. “I should take this. She doesn’t get to call very often.” She looked nervously at Edie. “Sorry but…” The buzzing phone kept distracting Skye and with one quick, nearly panicked looked to Edie, she hit the connect button.
Immediately the screen flashed with the tilting, pixelated view of a woman’s face. Edie got a sense of wild, curly black hair, high cheekbones in a rounded face, and laughing, bright brown eyes. The woman was wearing fatigues, suddenly filling the car with a loud, off-key version of “Happy Birthday.”
“Happy birthday, Thrush! Fucking God damnit, woman, you should be here celebrating with me. Where are you? Why is it so fucking dark?”
Edie had seen Skye angry, awkward, happy, and even worried. She’d never seen her quite this uncomfortable.
“Hey, Bash. I’m in the car. And I’m not alone, so…”
“You’ve got a date?” she yelled at full volume.
Bash stood and began doing a kind of shimmy, the androgynous green military uniform in no way hiding the suggestion of her dancing hips. Skye rubbed at her forehead, though Edie could see her smile surfacing. Edie covered a laugh.
The woman sat down in front of the camera again. “Lemme see her.”
“Basher, no. She’s kind of a client.”
The woman’s dark eyes went comically wide. “Kind of a client? There’s a whole long fucking story here, Thrush. But I’ve only got three minutes, so let me meet this woman who’s clearly more than a client.”
Skye sighed, and with an apologetic look to Edie, she pushed the phone to the right so Edie was in the view.
“Edie, this is my friend, Renee Bashell. Basher, this is Edie.”
Edie felt herself being evaluated through time and space. “Nice to meet you.”
“You, too, Edie,” Basher said suggestively, wiggling her dark eyebrows. Edie laughed. She could not believe how wildly different this woman was from the reserved, careful Skye. “So how do you know my Skye?”
It was a friendly possessive, Edie decided, given how excited the woman had been at the idea Skye had a date. Edie thought she might have an ally, so she went with her gut. “We had a date not too long ago. But then I got into some trouble and now Skye is watching out for me.”
“Let’s focus on the date part,” Basher said, looking intently into the screen. “When you say date, are you talking popcorn and a movie or like sweaty, late-night, steamy—”
“That’s enough,” Skye said mildly, tilting the phone away from Edie. She sounded more embarrassed than upset.
“Not nearly enough, Thrushy. I can’t believe you had a date and didn’t tell me. Some fucking friend.”
“Fuck right off,” Skye said mildly, keeping her eyes on the road. She was smiling.
“I’d love to!” Basher yelled and Skye laughed. “But I’ve got to go, there’s a long queue waiting to log on. Seriously, happy birthday. You’re the best.” Basher’s voice seemed to waver.
“Thanks for calling, Bash,” Skye said. “You good?” The question was short but Edie detected a kind of desperation in the two short words.
“I’m the best,” Basher said, laughing again. “But yes, I’m good.” There was a noise in the background, and Basher gave the middle finger to someone behind her without turning around. “We miss you. Happy birthday. Peace out.”
The call ended, the brightness of the screen immediately dimming, the sound of Basher’s laughter echoing in the car. Skye exited off the main highway to begin the half-hour trek through the countryside to get to their cabin.
“It’s really your birthday today?”
“Yeah,” Skye said, sounding subdued.
“Well then, happy birthday.”
“Thanks.”
Edie wondered if she should push. Skye had retreated, but Edie didn’t know if it was the lines she’d drawn between herself and Edie or the phone call.
“Let me guess how old you are,” Edie said, hoping to draw Skye out. “You’ve definitely hit thirty but maybe not so long ago.”
Skye smiled. “I’m thirty-four today.”
“Thirty-four. You’ve accomplished a lot in that time, Skye Kenny.”
Skye didn’t answer.
“I take it you don’t like birthdays?”
Skye glanced at her quickly. “No, that’s not it. It’s just…” Skye hesitated. “I’m just a little thrown off by the call, that’s all.”
“Basher,” Edie said. “The nickname suits her somehow.”
Finally, Skye laughed affectionately. “You have no idea. You should see her in hand-to-hand. She thinks she’s Xena, Warrior Princess.”
Edie laughed with her. “And…Thrush?”
“Ah, yeah,” Skye said. “I got that nickname at military college.”
“I’d like the story of Thrush. And the story of the princess, too.”
“You’re demanding tonight,” Skye said, laughing.
“Start with Thrush.”
“It was the first couple days at RMC,” Skye sai
d. “I was eighteen, and I thought I was ready for it. The drill sergeant’s whole job is to prove you’re not.”
“Break you down before they build you back up again.”
“Right. But at eighteen, I thought it meant outsmarting them. I was very wrong.”
Skye pulled off the main county line onto a gravel and dirt road. They only had a few minutes left.
“One day I was the target at inspection. We were in the quad, and the drill sergeant screamed questions at me about my kit, the lavatory rules, the history of the building we were standing in.”
“And you kept answering.”
“Like an idiot. The drill sergeant was getting more and more worked up with every answer I gave until he screamed out, ‘What is the fucking name of that fucking bird that won’t stop fucking singing?’ And I answered, ‘It’s a thrush, sir!’ The inspection stopped and he made me run laps. After that, I was Thrush.”
Skye eased the Jeep into the gravel driveway at the cabin. A lone porch light lit the area. Skye turned off the ignition but made no move to get out of the car.
“So you’ve been Thrush now for what, sixteen years?”
Skye looked out the window toward the door of the cabin. “I haven’t been Thrush for a few years. It’s my military name, and that part of my life is over. Sometimes Basher has a hard time with that.”
“Because…”
“Because…” Skye paused. “Because she had trouble with re-entry to civilian life. She re-upped a year ago, even though she probably shouldn’t have. Using my nickname is a way of keeping me with her, I guess.”
“Basher is the reason you help out Dr. Wallace.”
Skye sighed. “Yes. Her unit…” Skye clenched her jaw. “Basher saw a lot when she was deployed. She’s damn good at her job, but it’s really messed with her. And she can’t seem to find her way out.” Skye shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about this.”
Repercussions Page 12
