“Can you feel it warming up?” Simone tapped the filter tip of her cigarette on the railing.
The wind was shifting, coming from the west. He felt its warm hand on his face. He smiled. “I was wondering if I could borrow your staircase.”
Simone looked to her left as if listening to a conversation. She put her forefinger to her lips, signalling him to join her.
Lane tiptoed down the stairs. Simone pointed between the buildings. A foot-wide gap separated the cinderbrick wall of the bookstore and the brick wall of the theatre. At the far end of the narrow opening stood several metres of wall. Voices carried over the wall, along the gap between the buildings, to their ears.
Lane leaned closer to the Plaza Theatre’s white wall.
“We’re set for Saturday night, then?”
It’s a woman’s voice.
“I think everything is ready.”
That’s Andrew Pierce’s voice.
“I’ve got the passports ready,” the woman said.
“Still want to do the two-fer?” Pierce asked.
“More than ever. It should launch us internationally. Then we do a D.B. Cooper.”
“What’s our weekend total?”
“Five.”
“I’ll need some extra FlexiCuffs,” Pierce observed.
“Get them after the show. I’m finished my smoke. Let’s go in.”
Simone stepped away from the wall. “That’s the woman who wanted the books on Olson, Williams, and Homolka. I saw her coming down the street. Did you hear something you can use?” Simone asked.
“Unfortunately, their conversation would be easy to explain away.” Lane looked at the belly of the chinook. Pierce is getting extra FlexiCuffs. They’re planning for two scenes this time.
Lori pointed at her computer screen. “This is kind of weird. Mostly it’s arrogant, but it is weird.”
Lane went around the counter. There was a photo of Cori Pierce leaning against the hood of an Alpha Romeo. Lori’s red fingernail pointed to a post near the top of the social media page.
Cori and I are frightened by the recent spate of murders in this city. Close acquaintances of ours have been killed. I’m convinced this is the work of a serial killer. The police appear totally inept in their handling of these cases. Cori has told me many of her customers – this city’s movers and shakers – are in fear of their lives. How many more of these tragedies will occur before the police finally arrest those responsible?
“When was this posted?” Lane asked.
“About half past two this afternoon.” Lori pointed at the screen.
“Was it posted from the U of C?” The time fits with when Dr. Pierce was in the library.
“Want me to see what else Nebal can find out?”
“Yes, please,” Lane said.
THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 6
chapter 18
Psychiatric Evaluation Ordered for Accused Child Abductor
A judge has granted an application for a psychiatric assessment for Alison Milton. Joseph Lane, Ms. Milton’s lawyer, made the request in court yesterday.
Lane said, “My client has been the victim of relentless abuse. Her polygamist husband Efram Milton’s recent escape from custody is evidence of his total disregard for the law and accountability.”
During the application, Alison Milton testified, “God told me to take the boy from my daughter and bring him to a place where he will be raised by true believers.” In a rambling five-minute speech she also said, “God spoke to me on more than one occasion, telling me the child should be taken to the desert for forty days and forty nights.”
Efram Milton of Paradise, Alberta, initially charged as accomplice in the child abduction, escaped custody yesterday and is being sought by police.
“What’s the plan for Saturday?” Nigel asked.
Lane looked over at his partner wearing a pink shirt. There must be a woman behind this colourful change. “We meet with the team in ten minutes.”
Nine minutes later, the conference room was full. Lane looked around the table. Harper sat at the head in his deputy chief uniform. Lori sat next to him with her laptop ready. Grey-haired and square-jawed McTavish wore his grey-blue tactical unit jumpsuit. Nigel was dwarfed sitting beside McTavish. Next to Lane was a nondescript man wearing a grey shirt and pants. His face was round, his eyes and hair were brown, his height and weight were average. Lane recognized him because he was so unremarkable he could be only one person. “Darren? Do you know everyone here?”
Darren Phelps nodded, smiling.
Lane saw Netsky hovering outside the glass door. Maybe I should invite him in? No way. This has to remain in this room. Netsky was one of Smoke’s good ol’ boys. He’ll repeat whatever he hears, perhaps even leak it to the media. “This time, we may be a step ahead of our killers. We have a location, and indications are another homicide is planned for Saturday night.”
Lori nodded at Lane. “Nebal is tracking the suspects’ social media sites, providing regular updates.”
“The evidence we’ve gathered so far is circumstantial, but the threat is a serious one. Each of you will have a specific task on Saturday.” Lane nodded at Harper.
Harper leaned forward, looking at Phelps. “We need someone on the inside. Phelps, you’ll be working with the caterer serving food. You’ll stay behind inside the residence after everyone else leaves.”
Harper pointed at McTavish. “You will be stationed nearby in case the tactical unit is required. Pay close attention to weather reports, because the forecast shows a cold front heading our way.”
Lane caught Harper’s eye, lifting his chin in Lori’s direction. Harper nodded. “Lori will be working overtime on the weekend. She’ll be monitoring communications and handling any updates. She will centralize, providing backup in case anything goes wrong out on the street.”
Lane said, “Nigel and I will be tracking the movements of our suspects. We believe the pair is responsible for as many as twelve murders. Some of the homicides occurred in Calgary. Others occurred in New York, Toronto, and Playa del Carmen. Indications are there may be five murders planned for this weekend.”
Lori pointed at her computer. “Pierce has posted another comment on social media. He says the police are looking for the public’s help in finding the serial killers responsible for the Randall and Newsome murders because we have no idea who the killers are. He says he and his wife fear for their lives.”
Lane said, “There are also indications the pair plans to leave the country early Sunday.”
Lane nodded at Nigel, who stood to pass out photographs of Cori and Andrew Pierce. “These are our suspects. Their identities and aliases are at the bottom.”
“Any information on the type of weapons they use?” McTavish held up his copies of the pictures of the suspects.
“Fibre’s review of three crime scenes shows that a nine-millimetre handgun was used in at least four of the homicides. He also believes they use a box cutter.” Lane put his hand on the file in front of him. “You all know your jobs. We keep Lori and the deputy chief informed of any developments. They will make sure that information is passed on to all of us.”
Harper stood up. “As always the priority is to protect the public. We need this pair in jail, and we need the evidence to keep them there.”
Lane watched the room empty. He looked through the open door and spotted a man in a tailored grey coat talking to Lori. Lane could see only the man’s back. There’s something familiar there. He sensed confrontation in the man’s posture.