by Baigh Queen
“It is when he’s never done it before,” Osh argues calmly, “especially in such...bad writing.”
When Bane doesn’t reply I say, “The bomber writes with calligraphy; if he did write a note it would be beautiful and elegant, not...a mess like that.” I point at the paper, still in Osh’s hands. She gives me a smile, as if I were her protégé that learned whatever lesson she was teaching. It makes me grind my teeth a little harder. I add, “So you think it’s a--”
“Sergeant!” a muffled voice calls. Something slams into the door, making both me and Osh jump. We all turn to face the door and watch as someone on the other side struggles to open it, just as Osh had. After another call for him, Bane opens the door to reveal Deputy Swanson, red-faced and out of breath. “Sergeant we got a situation!”
“What is it?” Bane asks, all business. It’s strange seeing him like this--his muscles are tense and ready to get him running in whatever direction he needs to go.
“There’s--there’s another one,” Swanson says.
“Another what?” Bane questions.
“Another hat!”
“Where?” Bane pushes past the deputy and is going down the hall by the time my brain registers what’s happening. Osh seems to be in just as much shock as me, despite her usually cool demeanour. I start to follow, already out the door with Osh on my heels and nobody is trying to stop me.
Swanson reveals, “The skating rink-everyone’s already cleared out by the sounds of it. That article scared the bejeezus out of them so they didn’t want to-”
“Call in everyone,” Bane says. “I don’t want anyone going there until we get a look at this. Could be some dumb prank.”
“Has it started the lullaby?” I ask, barely able to catch up to the two tall men with my injured foot. It hurts a bit, but is easy enough to ignore with the high amount of adrenaline rushing through me. Bane shoots me a hardened look over his shoulder but quickly turns it on his deputy.
“Uh, I’m not sure,” Swanson stammers.
Bane curses under his breath. “Who called it in?”
“One of the skate patrol kids.”
“They on the line?”
Swanson nods.
“Let them know I’m on my way. And get calling the other deputies!” Bane’s out the front door and I’m still following. Part of me is ready to jump into the passenger side of his cruiser but he suddenly whirls on one heel and points a finger at me. “You stay here.”
“But--”
“You’re not a cop, and you’re barely a reporter,” Bane says. He walks around his cruiser that’s parker right out front of the station. “So you stay here!”
I call out, “So you think I’m a bit of a reporter?”
I can see the growl vibrate in his throat. “You coming Song?”
Osh glances at me. “I think I’ll keep questioning about the blog. You go ahead, make sure nobody gets hurt.”
Bane barely gives her a nod before he’s slamming the door of his car. Within seconds he’s racing down the street. The lights cast red and blue shades over the buildings as he drives, and before I know it, he’s out of sight. I go to take a step when I feel a familiar hand on my shoulder.
“Where the hell are you going?” I’m expecting Osh to be asking the question, though it doesn’t sound like her, and instead to turn to be met by Brett and Lily. It was the latter that asked the question; it’s so odd to hear her swear. But it’s Brett’s hand on my shoulder and he keeps it there until I shrug it off.
“You can’t walk to the ice rink on that,” Lily goes on, eyeing my foot.
I shake my head. “I don’t care, there’s another hat I need to get there.”
“Why?” Brett asks.
I open my mouth to answer but I don’t have one for him. I snap it shut. Why do I need to go there? I don’t have a logical answer, but everything in me is saying to go.
“She’s right,” Osh cuts in, stepping beside Brett and Lily, “you can’t walk there. Let’s take my car.”
“I’m coming!” Lily says, raising a hand in the air. Osh nods at her then looks to Brett. His jaw is tight, and if I had no reason to go then he has even less.
Despite that, he says, “I’ll go. If only to make sure you don’t break your other foot.”
“I didn’t break it,” I mumble. Osh turns towards the parking lot, and I can see her car is the only one there other than a couple of cruisers. Lily, Brett, and I are silent as she pulls around the corner of the lot and stops in front of us. Brett gets the back door for Lily who quickly jumps in. Apparently that nap she’d had earlier was enough to put the perk back in her step. While he waits for her to slide over I open my own door.
“Hey,” I say. Brett’s brow is furrowed as he meets my gaze. “Did you hear Bane say he thinks I’m a real reporter?”
I’m waiting for some wisecrack, the usual sass that passes between Brett and myself. But instead I just get a huff and he climbs into the backseat, slamming the door behind him.
Chapter Eleven
Even though Bane left literally two minutes before us, he’s cleared out the ice rink. It’s a large building not far from the hospital that was built as part of the cities initiative to keep the citizens healthy. They gave some line about creating better lives, active kids, blah, blah, blah. It was just there to justify the large amount of money spent building it, as well as distract everyone from the “little” cocaine bust the mayor had found himself in. Personally I was more interested in the mayor but the rink appeased most of the townsfolk. It’s normally a bustling hangout for kids and elderly alike, but today it’s a ghost town inside.
The crowd is being kept back by Deputy Swanson, and while he’s only one man, nobody is trying to push past him. He seemed to be telling the truth when he said my article gave the town a scare—I almost feel guilty about it. Scaring them wasn’t exactly the point of the article but…maybe it’s good that they got scared. It’s keeping them from trying to venture into the ice rink; a few of the people still have their skates on and are struggling to stay standing.
I don’t take any time as I follow behind Osh and into the rink. The doors slide open for us, and I only glance back at Swanson who is watching us enter. He doesn’t try to stop us, and instead focuses on the people in front of him. He’s telling them to stay calm, and go home. Everything’s under control. I’m not so sure it is, even after learning that there is a real investigation taking place.
A rush of cold air washes over me, chilling me in my thin sweater. Osh’s boots become loud as she moves from the carpet to the tiled floor. Bane is across the rink with another deputy, standing in front of another set of sliding doors that stay open in his presence. At the sound of Osh’s boots he looks over, and his grimace deepens.
“What the hell are you all doing here?” he questions.
For a split second I think he’s talking to Osh, but remember Brett and Lily are with me. They’ve kept their pace slow, staying behind me as I limp my way up to Osh and Bane.
“Freedom of the press?” I suggest.
He squints at me before turning his attention to Osh. “I’ve already called for a bomb squad from Vineville.”
Osh nods. “Good. We’ll need one if the copycat is as good as the original.” She looks through the open sliding doors, taking in the ice rink. The benches that surround the ice are littered with bags and coats, a few stray mittens and shoes here and there. I gulp thinking of how quickly everyone must have run off, and wonder if any of them were hurt in the hustle.
I remember coming here for P.E. once in high school. It’s exactly as I remember; a large oval surrounded by plastic and wood barriers. The chill in the air makes me think of trying to get Thea away from the edges and actually skating, but I never could; she was too scared of falling and getting her fingers chopped off. I’d laughed at her fear then, but now I think I get why she wouldn’t let go of the barriers. I’m staring down a large pink and green pointed party hat that sits on the centre of the ice, and I’
m feeling that fear.
The hat almost looks like an old fashioned dunce cap with how high it goes. There’s a large pink pom-pom on the top and even from half a yard away I can see the bright green string that drapes across the ice. But… “No note.” I tilt my head as if that will give me a better view.
“Did anyone see who put it there?” Osh asks.
“Haven’t had the chance to ask many, but by the sounds of it, no.” Bane rubs at the stubble coming in on his chin. The deputy beside him starts to do the same when Bane turns to him, “Go help out Swanson and keep people back. Take some statements if you can.”
“I’ll help out,” Brett volunteers. I arch my brows at him but he doesn’t give me any cheeky grin or even a glance. Instead he nods at Lily, and follows the deputy—Deputy Smythe—out. As if sensing something is odd, Lily looks at everything but me, her eyes only settling on the ceiling.
“There are cameras in here?” she asks, pointing to the far corner where a little black dome rests.
“Put it in after some kids started vandalizing the place,” a voice says. I try not to flinch but I turn too fast to find the source. A man not much older than me walks from the nearby office, his tie loose and hair slicked back with too much product. He’s got a lot of confidence as he smiles at me and Lily, considering there’s a bomb right behind us. “Gary McLean.” His hand reaches towards Lily first, which she shakes. The power of his hand moving up and down practically knocks her off her feet and when he finally lets go I put my hands on her shoulders to keep her upright.
“Glad you could make it Sergeant,” Gary says.
“And where were you when I got here?” Bane questions. For once, I like his attitude.
“Getting you this.” Gary holds out his hand, clearly no longer interested in introducing himself to me or even Bane. He’s holding a little black flash drive between his index and thumb. Despite his pressed shirt and pants, his shiny black shoes and trimmed haircut, his nails are unkempt. They aren’t caked with dirt, but rather some dark grey substance that etches beneath the nails and around his cuticles. Bane takes the drive. “The video footage from today. There’s one watching the ice, these doors, and the front doors.” He thrusts his thumb over his shoulder. Standing there in the silence that follows, I feel like he’s a puppy waiting to be praised. When all Bane does is offer him a nod as thanks, he turns his attention to Osh. He reaches a hand out to her but I’m the one that takes it.
“Gwen Weaver,” I say, “nice to meet you. Do you think I could get a quote for an article?”
Gary’s eyes light up and when he tries to give me the same shakedown he gave Lily I try not to let him. Keyword being “try”. I struggle with my injured foot, and each thrust of his hand makes me wince. When he finally lets go my fingers are white.
He asks, “You’re a reporter?”
“Yes,” I say at the same time Bane says, “No.” I look at him from the corner of my eye, nose in the air. “That’s not what you said five minutes ago.”
Bane touches the radio on his shoulder and says, “Smythe, get back here. Need you to get some video to the station and check it out.”
“Roger,” a voice says back.
“So you didn’t see who left the hat?” Osh asks. I notice she avoids reaching her hand out or introducing herself. Smart move.
“No, I’m in the office all day admitting people or doing paperwork,” Gary replies. “The skate patrol would be the ones to ask; they’re out there watching everyone like hawks.”
I slide my eyes towards Lily, who does the same to me. As much as I want to hang around and stare at a hat in the middle of the ice all day, there’s more productive things to be doing. Like my next article, for example, and getting some premium quotes to add in.
“We should go,” Lily says, “we’re not cops and we’ll just be in the way when the bomb squad gets here…”
“Right, we’ll be one our way,” I agree. I point at the doors. “So I’m un-arrested, right?”
“You were never under arrest in the first place,” Osh mentions. “But I would like to speak with you again.”
“So don’t leave town?”
Osh tilts her head down but smiles after a moment. “I’ll be in touch.”
“So will I,” Bane adds. I send him a frown before smiling again at Osh. I’m hesitant to leave her just yet, and the way Gary is looking her up and down is making me clench my hands into fists.
The story, I remind myself. There are people outside that must have seen something, and maybe even the culprit is waiting around to see his work. With that in mind I nod a few too many times at Osh as I back away. Soon I turn and keep walking, hoping my limp isn’t making me look like a complete loser.
“That was tense,” Lily announces once we’re outside.
It’s still tense, or at least my shoulders are. I roll them to try to relax a little, but the knowledge of what’s inside the building behind me, and the fact that I could be facing an attempted murderer right now, don’t allow it. Instead I feel a muscle in my back begin to cramp until I rub it with one hand, reaching over my shoulder just to touch it.
“You don’t have to stay, Lily,” I tell her, “I mean this isn’t exactly your job.”
“It is in case people get hurt,” she argues.
“I just mean investigating isn’t your job.”
“It’s not yours.”
“I’m an investigative reporter,” I say, rubbing the spot on my shoulder harder. “I’m…investigating.”
“You’re a civilian with a blog.” Lily crosses her arms, letting her weight rest on one leg as she looks at me. I’m not sure where this sass is coming from, but I can’t say I hate it. “And I might not be a reporter or a cop, but I want to help. This guy’s after kids, Gwen. Kids.”
“I know,” I say quietly. “But we’re not going to get anything from the people here.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean if anyone saw someone putting that hat down they would have said so by now. I’m going to get some quotes for an article, but…I don’t think it’ll help much. Maybe…”
When I don’t finish my sentence Lily raises her eyebrows. I don’t continue, because I don’t want her to know about the letter or the fact that someone on my blog may also be the killer. I may be a civilian with a blog, if you wanna get technical about it, but I’ve managed to get the culprit to come out of the shadows. If only a bit.
Maybe another article would get him to show his face?
Lily uncrosses her arms and looks to her feet as she kicks a stone. “So you’re…focused on the case, right?”
I glance at her. “Yes?” I go back to studying the faces of the crowd, but none of the people look suspicious. There’s a mix of worry and fear, some excitement and curiosity. “But I’m not…on a case. I’m not…” What? What? I can’t finish the sentence.
“I’m just asking because you and that agent seemed to have—“
“She’s not an agent,” I interrupt, “she’s from Sharpe Investigations.”
“I’ve never heard of them.” Lily steps a little closer to me, bumping me lightly with her shoulder. “But you have?”
“Yup.”
“And you’ve heard of that woman…what was her name again?”
“Osh, er, Oceane Song.”
“Seriously?” Lily giggles.
“Yeah.” I can’t help but smile at the thought of Osh’s full name. When I see that Lily is grinning at me from the corner of my eye I quickly clear my throat. “They’re a consulting agency that works with cops and big companies to solve…whatever they’re needing solved. You know, I’m not explaining it right they’re—“
“I’m not curious about them,” Lily says, “I’m more interested in the eyes going on between you and Ms. Song.”
“First of all,” I begin, “I think she prefers to go by Osh. Secondly, what are you talking about?”
“Just in front of the station,” Lily recounts, “and then inside as we were t
alking to that guy, and then you shook his hand instead—“
“Oh, so I can’t shake a guy’s hand without being interested in the woman beside him?” I frown, unsure of how I sounded. I wasn’t doing anything other than introducing myself to a witness—for the story. Nothing more, nothing less.
“You made sure he didn’t give her the same shakedown he gave me.” Lily smiles at me but I can’t seem to muster up the energy to do the same. I know what she’s saying, but she’s completely wrong. I try to think back over my interactions with her but my mind is telling me to stay focused on the next article. I’m already thinking up opening lines when I start to walk away.
“Hey, where are you going?” Lily asks.
“To interview other witnesses,” I call to her over my shoulder. Her footsteps slide along the brick walkway as she catches up to me. “I know they aren’t going to say anything interesting but I need some quotes.”
“How do you know they aren’t going to say anything interesting?”
I shrug. “Because if they haven’t told the cops what they know yet, they won’t tell me.” I come to an abrupt stop when I see Brett in front of the crowd, holding his hands up to keep people back. I gulp.
“What happened between you two?” Lily asks. She’s full of questions today it seems, all of them ones I don’t feel like answering. Osh, the story, now Brett…I groan inwardly. Shouldn’t he cut me some slack after everything? I think he should but my mother’s nagging voice is in my ear telling me I should apologize. The voice isn’t wrong, but now doesn’t seem like the time or place.
Instead of going for Brett to see if he’s learned anything, I make my way over to Deputy Smythe who has his little pen and notepad out. He’s taking down the statement of an elderly woman, whose hands have a deathlike grip on the child in front of her. Her fingertips are white, and the child struggles to get away every few seconds, but she doesn’t let go.
Ms. Baker, who, oddly enough, owns the local bakery. I remember seeing her kneading some dough once and let me tell you, I pity that child. Strength of the Hulk, that woman has.
