“No charges were ever laid. I checked,” Lane said.
Tommy made a note on his pad. “Still…”
“Her mother can use it against her?” Arthur asked.
Alison thinks God is on her side. She’ll use it, Lane thought.
“We’ll see. I just like to know everything there is to know so I can prepare for any and all eventualities.” Tommy sat back.
“What I did…” Christine faltered. “Will it mean they can take Indy from me?”
Indiana farted. Lane looked over at the baby, who smiled. A tiny fist appeared next to his cheek.
“It appears your son isn’t worried, and is perhaps even a bit dismissive of the possibility.” Tommy smiled. “He may have a point. They attempted to kidnap your child. I suspect they will be so busy defending themselves that any attempt to discredit you will only make our case stronger.”
Dan asked, “Would it help if we were married?”
“Will you talk with her? Christine listens to you.” Arthur stood next to Lane at the front door.
“What happened?” Lane bent to unlace his boots.
“She thinks she’s going to lose Indiana.” There was emotion in Arthur’s voice, and his hands shook as he spoke.
Lane straightened, slipping out of his boots and taking off his coat. He took Arthur’s hand. “Alison’s only weapon is fear. We have documentation signed by Alison stating she has no interest in raising her daughter. We have witnesses to say she excommunicated her daughter and cut Christine off from her family. And for four years she has not contacted her daughter. There is also the issue of the Lost Boys, who will be brought up if this ever goes to trial.”
“Can you tell her that?” Arthur put his hand on Lane’s shoulder, steering him toward the top of the stairs leading to the family room.
Lane felt almost overwhelming dread. What happens if I’m wrong? He nearly missed the top step. Grabbing the railing, Lane closed his eyes and took a breath, then made his way down to the oak hardwood floor of the family room. Christine sat in the oversized chocolate-brown leather chair with Indiana asleep in her arms.
Lane heard movement on his left. He turned to see Dan on the couch. His eyes were wide, underlined with fatigue. Dan nodded.
“Just tell me.” Christine stared straight ahead at the muted TV. “How long do I have with Indy?”
“The rest of your life. He will always be your son.” Lane sat down on the arm of the chair. Christine, you could use a bath. The scent was a warning bell in Lane’s mind.
“But how long will he be with me?” Christine turned to look at her son.
“Two things. And I want you to remember them when Indy has his first temper tantrum. And I want you to go and soak in the bath while I hold the baby.” Lane put his hand on her shoulder.
Christine’s eyes were overflowing with tears. “Why does she want him and not me?”
Indiana brought his knees up. He grimaced, beginning to cry. Christine put him on her shoulder.
“Your son may be trying to tell you something,” Lane said.
“What’s that?” Christine asked.
“He needs you. And don’t forget about the two things. Alison is the one charged with child abduction. And Tommy is the best. That’s why we hired him.”
“But they say they have the right to take him away.”
Lane took a long breath. “They can say what they like because it’s all they can do. They talk because they have no other recourse, and they’ve proved they think they have the right to take the law into their own hands.”
“You don’t know how they operate.” Christine rubbed Indiana’s back with her right hand.
Lane lifted his eyebrows. “I don’t?”
Dan began to laugh, and Christine smiled. “I’m scared.”
“Maybe Alison and Milton should be scared. Tommy can be ferocious. This is a case he can really get his teeth into. I’m beginning to think the CCI and Milton have bitten off more than they can chew.”
THURSDAY, JANUARY 30
chapter 11
“How’d it go with the doctor?” Lane asked when Nigel walked into the office and sat down at his desk.
“I had an MRI. The doctor told me to stop boxing or I’m risking permanent brain damage.” Nigel looked at Lane.
It sounds like he wants my advice. “What do you think?” Coward! Just tell him.
“I know that the hammering -” he tapped the side of his skull “- isn’t healthy. I was hoping you would know why I do it. You’re good at figuring out motives.”
Shit! Lane looked at his partner, wondering what would come of what he was about to say. “You probably won’t like it.”
Nigel nodded, holding the palm of his right hand open for his partner, indicating Lane should go ahead.
“It’s something you probably need to figure out for yourself.”
“Please, just say it.”
Lane inhaled. Don’t do it! “I think you feel responsible for what happened to your mother, and your emotions say you need to be punished even though you know -” Lane tapped the side of his head “- in your mind you are not responsible.”
Nigel stood up, catching the tops of his thighs on the underside of his desk. He howled with pain.
Lane recoiled at the sound, the wail of an animal whose wound is exposed after being protected by layers of scar tissue.
Lori opened the door seconds later. “What the hell is going on here?” She spotted a doubled-over Nigel, turned her anger on Lane. “What did you do?”
Nigel rubbed his thighs. “Nothing. He did nothing.”
Lori looked at Lane, then back at Nigel. “Bullshit.” She crossed her arms, waiting.
Nigel got up, grabbed his coat, and walked around his desk. “I need some air.”
Lori looked at Lane and shook her head. “What did you say to him?”
“Hello? Detective Lane? This is Donna Liu.”
Lane looked across at the people sitting on the C-Train. One was reading a book. Another was listening to music. A man leaned against the glass and napped. The air smelled of warm clothing, sweat, and electric heat. “Hello.” Lane stared at his reflection in the glass. The buildings of the University of Calgary formed a backdrop.
“Can you talk?”
Lane heard the hollow sounds of road traffic, guessing Donna was in her car. “I can’t but you can.”
“Shit! Sorry, some guy just cut me off. That was close.”
Lane waited.
“There was talk at work today. Another of the Nine Bottles is going to have a party. Well, it’s five bottles now. Or is it four? Anyway, there’s a party at Brockington House. Can you believe she has a title for her house? I can get back to you with more details if you like.”
“Yes, please. How’s your son?”
“The same. Talk with you in a day or two. Bye.”
About a kilometre away, Nigel walked into the Nose Hill Public Library. At night, the blast of warm air at the entrance created a bit of fog as winter elbowed its way through the doors. He stepped through the second set of doors, removing cap and gloves, unzipping his coat, and looking for Anna. What Lane said made you angry because it was the truth. You asked him to tell you, and he did. Get over it.
He found her standing over a man who had made the unfortunate mistake of sitting in Anna’s chair. She wore a faux-leather fighter pilot’s helmet, a pair of steampunk glasses with red and violet lenses, mitts, and a brown faux-leather bomber jacket. Anna leaned over the arm of the chair, breathing on the man’s head. “Is there a problem?” he asked.
“You’re sitting in my chair.” Anna’s volume made several people turn to look. She flicked down a violet lens overtop the red one.