“Cori sold their Alpha Romeo. A guy came around to Platinum, gave her a wad of cash, and drove away. About an hour later, one of the teachers from the school down the road – the school where some of the work experience kids come from – came looking for Robert. I told her to go down the hall into the back. She went. We all watched the teacher stand at the washroom door. She got really red in the face when she heard what was going on. Then she started pounding on the door. Finally, Cori and Robert came out of the washroom. There was a big screaming match. The teacher took Robert away. And Cori, she came back into the salon and gave me this look. It’s hard to describe. The bitch gave me that high school look you get when one girl thinks you’re fucking her boyfriend.” Donna looked over her shoulder as a reflex, checking to see if her son was listening at the door. Instead they heard him clumping around upstairs. “I’m not going back to the shop. I told the contractor if he finishes this weekend I’ll pay extra.”
“What do you want us to do?” Lane asked.
Donna’s phone rang. She moved to her right, reaching into her purse. Lane caught a glimpse of an envelope, and the brown polymer sheen of hundred-dollar bills.
Donna pulled out her phone, closing the purse. She watched the detectives as she said, “Yes, we just got back from the doctor. He says Hansen is doing well. He’s still pissed because I won’t let him play hockey.” She listened then said, “They’re here right now.” She hung up. “My husband. He told me to call you. He thinks Cori and her husband are selling the cars so they can leave town. He thinks you need to know before someone else gets hurt.”
“What do you think?” Lane asked.
“I think Cori is one of those people who knows exactly how to get what she wants.” Donna looked past Lane at the primer on the walls. “I’ve got a customer coming in a few minutes.”
Lane took out his phone. “I want you to put my number on speed dial.”
Lori sat across from Lane and Nigel in their office. “McTavish phoned. He’s ready. He’ll have three of his crew down in the furnace room of the house tomorrow morning. They’re equipped to camp out for at least twenty-four hours. Phelps will work with the caterers. Harper is handling communications and logistics. He wants you and Nigel to freelance just in case something unexpected happens. Harper’s a little worried about the weather.” She wore a pair of tan slacks, her leather boots, and a pink blouse.
“What’s up with the weather?” Nigel asked.
Lane pointed his mouse at the weather icon. “Cold front moving in. A risk of freezing rain on Saturday.”
“Harper assigned you a Jeep so you can get around if the weather doesn’t cooperate.” Lori checked the item off her list.
“Anything else on that list, boss?” Nigel asked.
“Yes, it says here, ‘If Nigel is a pain in the ass then you have the authority to…’ ” Lori smiled.
Nigel exploded. “It doesn’t really say that!”
Lori handed him the list.
Nigel took a look, blushed, and handed the list back.
“He also told me to tell the pair of you he needs you to be sharp tomorrow. All of the angles are covered, and now you are to go home and get some rest.” Lori made an oversized check mark in the air above her list, stood up, and left the office.
“Sarah phoned me today.” Christine manoeuvred the oversized stroller over clear sidewalks, concrete covered in ice, residential streets covered in soup. Indiana was dressed in a sleeper, stuck in a poncho, and wrapped in a blanket. His eyes were just visible where the blue toque and scarf didn’t touch. They walked in winter coats and boots in the silvery half-light filtering through the thick layer of a chinook arch. Clear blue sky peeked out from under its western edge, revealing the tips of the Rocky Mountains.
Lane held Sam’s leash in his left hand. A grey squirrel bounded across the top of the snow’s hard crust in a neighbour’s front yard. It scampered up the trunk of a poplar tree. Sam hit the end of the leash. Lane’s left arm was nearly yanked out of its socket. Christine used her free hand to grab the leash. Sam danced on his rear legs.
Matt followed along behind with Dan, who said, “He likes cats and rabbits, too.”
After Sam settled down except for some heavy breathing, Christine said, “It was a really weird conversation. She asked if she could see Indy, then asked if we could take him to see my mom.”
Lane kept one eye out for squirrels and rabbits. The other eye watched for pickup trucks with men who looked like they were from Paradise. He leaned into the wind gusting at over thirty kilometres an hour. “You’re joking.”
Christine shook her head. “No, and Sarah sounded afraid.”
“How old is she?” Lane asked.
“Fourteen, I think.” Christine looked at her uncle. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking about twenty different things right now.” He looked over his shoulder to see if there was anyone behind Matt and Dan.
“Something big happening with the case?” Dan asked.
Lane nodded.
“You’ll be careful?” Christine asked.
Lane spotted a bearded neighbour being pulled along by a white-breasted boxer with a blue blanket over its back. There was tension in the leash as Sam began to pull.
“Is it the serial killer?” Matt asked.
The boxer planted its front feet, staring at Sam and beginning to growl.
Lane grabbed the leash with both hands the instant before Sam hit the end of the nylon webbing. The boxer began to bark. Sam howled and barked in reply. It was a sound Lane had never heard Sam make before, a sound of wild anger. Sam became seventy-five pounds of muscle and bone fighting to get at the boxer. Lane leaned back into the leash, then reached for Sam’s collar.
“What’s wrong with him?” Christine asked as Matt and Dan helped Lane pull the normally playful Sam back the way they’d come.
Matt said, “There’s something about that boxer that drives Sam crazy.”
SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 8
chapter 20
Accused Child Abductor Offers Information on Trafficking of Underage Girls
Alison Milton, accused of attempted child abduction in January, has offered to testify about the way young women are traded back and forth across the Canada-US border.
Joseph Lane, Alison Milton’s legal representative, says she has “damning” evidence that Efram Milton transported girls as young as thirteen to the United States with the intent of marrying them to men who were often in their fifties and sixties. Milton recently escaped custody and is being sought by police.
Lane says, “Alison also worked as a mid-wife. She delivered a baby for a girl who had just turned fifteen. Alison Milton is willing to testify the girl was coerced into marriage with Efram Milton.”
When asked if Alison Milton plans to plead guilty to the abduction charge, Mr. Lane said, “Alison’s defence may reveal more about the coercive nature of her marriage.”
“I wish we could take the espresso machine with us.” Andrew Pierce poured fresh beans into the stainless-steel coffee grinder. “I’m taking this grinder.” He turned on the machine. It growled, grinding the coffee beans into grains for the espresso machine.
“They said they wanted it furnished, so they get it furnished. We’ll buy new when we get there. I was getting tired of this stuff anyway.” Cori waved at the oak table and chairs. “I had my eye on a cocobolo table when we were last there.” She tucked her passports into the side pocket of the tan Prada bag she had bought in New York after one of their earlier trips.
“We’re ready to go?”
Cori snapped her purse shut. “All we need to do now is decide on where to go for lunch. Then I have a few things to pick up on the way.”
The professor left the coffee machine for a moment, picking up a green duffle bag with black straps. He zipped it open, lifted out items, and arranged them in a line across the kitchen table. The nine-millimetre handgun was on the far left followed by blue coveralls, surgical gloves, white booties, and hairnets. The FlexiCuffs were next, then a package of wipes and a spray bottle of bleach. “It’s all here. I’ll put it by the garage door so we don’t forget it.”