Nigel got to the left side of the lane where the pea-sized gravel from the sanding trucks gathered and traction was better. “Is he catching up?”
“Nope.” Lane watched the man’s wide eyes as he stared ahead. The car spun. Lane saw the side of the driver’s head and a bulbous nose.
“The light is still green.”
Lane watched the cars stacked up behind the spinning grey compact. The grey car slid to the bottom of the hill and – where the road widened into three lanes – spun right though the intersection and up onto the sidewalk as if it was what the driver intended. Nigel eased over, flipping on the lights, driving up onto the sidewalk. “Better check whether he’s okay.”
Lane got out, walking back through ankle-deep snow. He saw the wipers swinging back and forth on the grey car. As he got within five metres, the driver blinked. Lane looked up the road, seeing traffic slowing to a crawl. He approached the passenger window and heard the hum of an electric motor. A wide-eyed man with black hair sat very close to the steering wheel. “Very scary.”
Lane nodded. “You okay?”
The man nodded. “Just catching my breath.”
“If we’re right about Cori and Andrew Pierce, then what’s the next move?” Nigel sat at his desk. He opened a file from David Randall and forwarded it, looking across at Lane’s computer screen.
Lane tapped his mouse, opened the new file, and pasted the images of the brooch and necklace at the centre of the screen. “First off, we need to keep a close eye on them.”
“We need Phelps.”
“The shadow?” Lane turned to his partner, smiling. There was a running joke about Phelps. People said even his mother couldn’t remember what he looked like. Officers would forget he was in a meeting. Phelps was a master at blending in, often using the talent to disappear when a meeting went too long.
Nigel nodded, smiling. “You all right?”
What’s this about? “I’m sorry for what I said about you not being able to save your mom.”
What might have been a shrug turned into something like a convulsion. “You were probably right about that. Right now I’m talking about Indiana and worrying about what your sister might do.”
Lane looked at the floor. “Christine is tied up in knots. She was doing so well at school. We were all looking forward to the baby. Her life was looking up. Now she won’t leave the house for fear of losing Indiana.”
“How come she’s like that?” Nigel looked sideways at his computer. A message from Anna popped up. Meet me at eight tonight.
“My sister or Christine?” Lane looked up from the floor.
“Your sister.”
“I don’t know.” Lane glanced at the door, making sure it was closed.
“What was she like as a kid?” Nigel leaned back in his chair.
Lane looked at the ceiling. “People loved her. She was very good at telling people what they wanted to hear. Most people took her at face value. But there was a nasty side to her. And she was entitled.”
“To what?”
“To whatever. She acted like she had a pipeline to God and a ticket to heaven.”
“I don’t follow the reasoning.”
“Neither do I.” Lane looked at his screen. “I’ll e-mail Phelps.”
“Good idea.” Nigel shut down his computer, then stood up. “I’ve got to get going.”
What’s this all about? Lane saw toilet paper strung across the branches of the mugo pines planted out front of his house. There was a sliver of light visible through a gap in the curtains. He saw eyes and a nose. The light was on at the front door as he went up the steps.
Arthur opened the door. “It happened about an hour ago. Maria next door called. She spotted them. Matt and Dan went out the door, but they got away.”
“Who?” Lane closed the door behind him as he unzipped his jacket and took off his toque.
“Three people. A pickup was waiting for them down at the school.” Arthur walked into the kitchen. “Christine says it’s a trick the kids from Paradise used to play. She thinks they’re telling her they can get to Indiana any time they like.”
Lane felt the rage starting somewhere just beneath his ribs. He could feel the heat rising to his face and the tips of his ears. “How is Christine handling it?”
Arthur turned, looked at Lane, raised his eyebrows, and leaned his head to the right. “Better than you.”
Nigel sat down across from Anna where she tapped the screen of an iPad.
“How come you always wear black?” she asked without looking up.
“What do you mean?” Nigel watched Anna through the flat mauve tinted-lenses of her steampunk goggles.
“Black jacket, black pants, black socks, black shoes, black shirt. Need I say more?” Anna continued to tap the screen.
“It’s easier.”
“Easier than what?” She stopped typing, looking at him.
“Than choosing what to wear every morning. Also, it’s easier to blend in.”
“Hmmm. Zombies don’t blend in.” She went back to tapping the iPad screen.
Just wait. She’ll get around to it. Nigel closed his eyes, leaning his head back. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his winter jacket.
“I don’t think it’s over yet with Milton. I recommend we keep going after the money. If Milton’s gone to the trouble of hiding that much, it means the money is very important to him. Even now he continues to move it around to keep it safe. The trail is easy to follow. If I keep going after the money, he will eventually understand he needs to stay away from the child or lose his fortune.”
Nigel looked up to see Anna was watching him through the red glass. “The baby’s mother is like a prisoner now. She’s afraid to leave the house because she’s sure someone is waiting to take the baby.”
Anna blinked. “Do you think she’ll be able to handle another week or two?”
“I don’t know.”
“Milton will be wondering who’s behind the transfers. He will eventually come to the conclusion that if he continues to support the abduction of the child, it will continue to cost him. The time factor is the only uncertainty now. Another anonymous donation is in the works.” Anna looked at her screen. “Buy some new clothes. Black is depressing and doesn’t suit you.”
SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 2
chapter 14
The Calgary Police Service is asking for help from the public. Two high-profile homicides and few leads have led in this appeal.
CUT TO DEPUTY CHIEF CAMERON HARPER, CALGARY POLICE SERVICE “We are asking for the public’s help in our investigation of the murders of Elizabeth and Robert Randall, and Megan and Douglas Newsome. A dedicated tips hotline has been set up. It appears at the bottom of your screen. The CPS thanks you in advance for your help in bringing the person or persons responsible for these crimes to justice.”
Deputy Chief Harper would not comment when asked if the CPS believes the city faces the threat of a serial killer.
Shazia Wajdan, CBC News, Calgary.
“We get the day shift. Phelps and his partner will take nights.” Lane made a sideways glance at Nigel, who wore a purple shirt and sat behind his computer.
“A friend told me I needed more colour.” He looked down at the new shirt, flicking away a speck of dust.
“It works for you.”
Nigel nodded. “So, what happened?”
This is fucking annoying! It’s okay when I’m reading minds, but having mine read is pissing me off. “Toilet paper.”
Nigel looked sideways at Lane. “You’re going to explain, right?”
“I got home last night and the pine trees at the front of the house were decorated with toilet paper.”