Fred looked down at her. “I was planning on getting started in about a month.”
“I don’t know what you do to the soil, but those flowers of yours are amazing. Can’t wait to see what you bring in this year.” Lori looked up at Fred with frank admiration.
“The soil is my little secret.” Fred smiled.
Lori blinked a couple of times to show off her blue eye shadow. “The detectives got their orders from the Chief. This case is theirs. You want me to get your old files?”
Fred shook his head. “I’ll get them. I know where they are.” He walked past Lori and down the hall.
Lori looked over her shoulder before stepping inside Lane’s office. “Watch and learn, boys. If you want to survive around here, watch and learn.”
TUESDAY, JANUARY 21
chapter 2
“I phoned Alexandra. One of us will need to pick her up at the airport,” Arthur said as Lane parked in the Foothills Medical Centre parking lot. “Christine really needs her sister with her.”
Five minutes later, they stepped onto the elevator. Lane looked at Arthur while waiting for the door to close. Arthur’s thinner face and hair made him appear younger. He smiled as he felt Lane’s eyes on him.
Daniel’s mother Lola led her husband John into the elevator. The brown-haired woman wore a pantsuit, a tasteful set of white pearls, a full-length cashmere coat, freshly dyed hair, and a frown aimed at Lane and Arthur. She turned her back on them to face the elevator door as it closed. Her husband John – dressed by Lola – was in a suit and peacoat to complement but not compete with his wife’s outfit. He half-smiled at Lane and Arthur, turning his back when his wife took him by the elbow.
Lane watched the numbers light up above the door. Dan’s so different from his parents. Makes me wonder about genetic diversity. Then he smiled. Look at the family I came from.
Arthur elbowed Lane in the ribs.
The door opened to the fifth floor, Lola exited first. Her heels click-clicked on the linoleum. John followed, then Lane and Arthur.
Arthur hummed. “Whatever Lola wants, Lola gets.”
“You’re forgetting Christine is a force of nature.” Lane watched Lola and John as he pressed the button opening the electric doors to the ward. For a moment Lane was overcome by the desire to protect Christine and her baby. He began to move forward.
Arthur grabbed his arm. “Christine will ask for our help if she needs it. Let’s just sit in the waiting room for a minute.”
They sat in the chairs set along the hallway wall. As they got settled, Lane turned to observe the other family members waiting, sitting alongside and across. A grandmother with black hair wore an elaborate gold-and-bronze scarf. She stared at the metal doors. A man wearing a ball cap, a black leather jacket, and cowboy boots stared at his toes. His wife sat next to him reading a magazine.
“Stop that.” Arthur put his hand on Lane’s thigh.
Lane looked down to see his right knee bouncing.
The metal doors hummed open. Lane and Arthur turned when they heard the click-clicking of heels on the linoleum.
Lola swept through the opening. John ran to catch up.
“I was just explaining how she should breastfeed the child,” Lola said.
“I know.” John slowed to a fast walk.
“After all, I am a mother. I have considerable experience.” Lola spotted Lane and Arthur before looking away.
Lane thought, Didn’t you hire nannies to look after your daughter and son?
“She’s a new mother. And her baby is in NICU,” John said.
Lola stopped, facing her husband. “I hope you’re not justifying her behaviour. She asked us to leave!”
“Just trying to explain.” John took Lola by the elbow, heading for the elevator.
Lane and Arthur locked eyes as the sound of Lola’s heels receded down the hallway.
A few minutes later, the metal doors opened again. Dan walked through and spied Lane and Arthur. “Would you like to meet my son?”
They followed him down the hallway, then through the NICU doors. They found a red-eyed Christine holding the baby. His hair was thick and black, his eyes were closed, and an IV nestled in a vein in his forehead.
What is going on? Lane took a closer look at Christine. She wore a white housecoat. Her hair was tied back. Besides being exhausted, she looked defeated.
Dan said, “He’s on antibiotics to prevent infection.”
Arthur cupped his hand over the back of the baby’s head. Christine smiled.
“He’s beautiful,” Arthur said.
“We’ll probably be out in a few days,” Dan said.
He can’t stop talking, Lane thought.
Christine looked up at Lane. “Do you think I’ll be a good mom?”
Dan stood up. “My mother was just here.” He held his hands out with the palms up, shrugging.
“She said a good mother knows how to breastfeed instinctively,” Christine said.
Lane sat down next to Christine. She passed the baby over.
Lane felt the warm weight of the newborn, looked at the soft tan of his face.
“His name is Indiana,” Dan said.
Arthur said, “You know, I’ve been talking with Loraine and Lisa.” Loraine and Lisa, old friends of Lane and Arthur, had a son named Ben.
Christine leaned forward, focusing on Arthur.
Lane touched the delicate skin of Indiana’s cheek.
Arthur said, “They said it took a day or two for Ben to learn to latch on to the breast. That mother and son had to learn together.”
“Really?” Christine asked.
Arthur nodded.
Lane smiled at the baby.
Indiana farted.
Arthur smiled. “See? He’s already learning to communicate.”
Lane opened the passenger door of their BMW. It smelled of soft leather and new carpet. Arthur sat in the driver’s seat. “If Lola thinks she can treat Christine like that, it won’t only be Christine who’s giving her the boot. Kharra alhika! She struts around in her ‘look at me, notice me’ shoes with her whipped husband trotting along behind. She thinks being aggressive gets her what she wants, and we’ll all roll over like beaten dogs.”
Lane stepped out into the sharp bite of minus twenty air and closed the door quickly. He could hear Arthur swearing in Arabic over the sound of the heater fan and the engine as he walked behind the car. He crossed the street and walked up the ramp to the Crowfoot LRT station. At least he’s over being depressed. Now he’s ready to take on anyone and everyone. He walked along the bridge over Crowchild Trail. Below him a steady stream of traffic pushed through the heavy arctic air. Exhaust trailed in white plumes.
The north wind bit the back of his neck, and he pulled up the collar of his winter jacket. Ahead, the curved metal- and-glass station looked like the back end of an ocean wave. He stepped inside, bathed by a blast of warm air.
Twenty minutes later, he stepped off the LRT and walked across 7th Avenue, down the block into the teeth of the wind funneling between the buildings, and into the sand-coloured concrete building housing the Calgary Police Service.
He unzipped his jacket and took off his black cap.
Lori greeted him as he entered the office. She wore a red suit jacket, a white scarf and blouse, and black slacks. “How’s that new baby?”
He smiled. “Perfect. He’s got a head full of black hair. His skin is so soft.”
Lori said, “So he’s turned you into a real softy?”
Lane frowned. “I guess he has.”
“Don’t worry. It suits you.”
“What’s new around here?” Lane put his cap and gloves on the countertop, shucking off his winter jacket.
Lori leaned forward, dropping her voice to a whisper. “Fred Netsky has been wandering around trying to play the victim since the Chief gave you his old case. But so far, no one is biting. In fact, the others are beginning to avoid him. Looks like they’re adopting a wait-and-see policy since you’re the boss around here.”