BOBBIE: Good afternoon. It’s Bobbie on the ride home. Today we have a special guest, Charity Smallway.
She’s this year’s winner of the Daughters of Alberta Outstanding Citizen of the Year Award. Charity is here to talk about the exploitation of children. How do we protect our children from those who would harm them?
Jay picked up a piece of beef with his chopsticks. The chili peppers in the satay beef-noodle soup cleared his sinuses. It was his first meal of the day. He sat across the table from Tony who tackled a bowl of noodles and chicken. The Lucky Elephant Restaurant was about half full.
“Where’s Uncle Tran?” Jay asked.
“I don’t know. There’s a hockey game tonight. He’s addicted to it,” Tony said.
“What’s Rosie got planned for tomorrow night?”
Jay asked.
“She says we’ll know what to do. Whatever she has planned will happen after the first match.” Tony wiped his mouth with a napkin.
“Match?” Jay inhaled a mouthful of rice noodles.
“It’s volleyball. You know, the Hemi.”
“Hemi?” Jay asked.
“Man, I always know more about what’s goin’ on in this town than you do. Teams from all over the western hemisphere come here every year to play volleyball. It’s on network TV. Big sponsors, big names, big bucks. The place’ll be packed.”
“Oh,” Jay said.
“You gotta start reading a paper or listening to the radio.” Tony shook his head.
“Not gonna happen,” Jay said.
Lane circled the ice after setting the nets and making sure all of the gates were closed. The ice was perfect. Cheryl’s an artist, he thought. In her hands, the Zamboni creates a perfectly smooth surface.
“Hey Ref! They’re really scrapin’ the bottom of the barrel when they take some fruit in figure skates!”
Lane glanced up into the stands.
A man in a full-length black leather coat, black leather driving gloves, and tie pointed at Lane. “That’s right, you!” He laughed at Lane.
Lane looked away. This is going to be lots of fun, he thought. Matt lead his team out onto the ice. They wore new jerseys tonight; red, white, and black. Matt nearly fell. He turned, righted himself, circled, and stopped. The player behind him stopped by falling. The rest of the team managed ragged and juddering braking maneuvers. Lane looked at Matt’s coach who smiled back. He’s right, Lane thought, these guys really do need some skating lessons.
Lane was the only referee to show for the game and, as a result, heard only a fraction of what the heckler in black leather had to scream. It was another shutout for Matt who managed to stop the puck with toes, blocker, pads, elbows, and helmet. Somehow, he even stopped a puck with his backside turned to the play and one eye on the puck. It was never pretty, Lane thought, but the kid got it done.
It was about halfway through the game, just after Lane blew the whistle on an icing, when Matt skated to the centre line across from his team’s bench. He looked up into the stands and struck the glass with his stick.
“Shut up!”
Lane looked up into the stands. The man in black leather said, “It’s a free country kid!”
Lane skated over to Matt. “What’s the matter?”
Matt’s face was red behind the mask. His eyes were animal. “Didn’t you hear what he said?”
“No.” Lane looked up at the man in black leather.
Cheryl the rink attendant was coming down the aisle with a wet mop. She was followed by three other women who were mothers of players on Matt’s team. None of the women were smiling.
“Gotta clean up the mess,” Cheryl said.
“What mess?” black leather asked.
“You, Mac,” one of the mothers said.
“Whatdoyamean?” Mac asked.
Another woman said, “We mean it’s time for you to go, Mac. Our boys put up with you last year. It’s not gonna happen again this year.”
“I got a right to watch my kid play!” Mac said.
Cheryl slapped the mop onto the cement at Mac’s feet.
“Hey, those shoes cost me three-hundred bucks!” Mac stood up and backed away. “I’m gonna have your job, dyke!” He raised a fist.
The third woman pulled out a cellphone, “I think that’s called attempted assault. I’ll check it out with the police.”
“Go ahead. Guy can’t have a little fun at a game these days without havin’ to put up with a politically correct gang of dykes!” Mac retreated.
The women waited till the arena door closed behind Mac.
Cheryl leaned on her mop and smiled at Matt. “Finish the game fellas, another team’s up after you.”
After the game, when Lane, Arthur, and Matt drove home, the Jeep filled with a now familiar pungent mixture of sweat and drying equipment.
Matt said, “Why do you take that? I mean the Ref calls me a cripple, and you’ve got him by the throat. The guy in the stands calls you a fudge-packer, and you do nothin.’”
Lane had his window cracked open to let in some fresh air.
“Didn’t you hear what he said?” Matt asked.
“Some of it,” Lane said.
Matt shook his head.
“After you accept who you are, people can’t say much to hurt you,” Arthur said.
Lane thought, It’s time to change the subject. “Why don’t we get Martha to come to the next game?”
Friday, October 23
Chapter 15
LANE WAS AT least fifteen minutes ahead of the morning rush hour traffic when his cellphone rang. He reached into his pocket, flipped the phone open, and pressed the talk button.
“Lane?” Lisa said.
“Good morning.”
“I phoned Arthur but you had already left,” Lisa said.
“What’s up?” Lane thought, Don’t forget to ask her about Loraine.
“Some more information’s been passed on to me. Dr. Fibre couldn’t find any matches from the scene except those from the cushion Kaylie was lying on,”
Lisa said.
“Do you mean that Kaylie was placed in the camper and not moved?” Lane watched the traffic ahead of him and checked his rear-view mirrors. He was all alone for the moment.
“Looks like. And there’s more. Kaylie died from Shaken Baby Syndrome. Beyond that, there is evidence of past childhood injuries. The coroner is checking with the family doctor to see if there might be a history of abuse.”
“That is supported by another source,” Lane said.
“Are you holding out on me?” Lisa asked.
“A little,” Lane said.
“The physical evidence is saying two very distinct things. Kaylie died before her father, and her body was transported to the crime scene,” Lisa said.
“I’ve got some canine samples waiting at the lab to determine if we’ve got a match for the dog hairs found on her clothes.”
“That would be a good start, but we’ll need more,”
Lisa said.
Lane said, “And there’s something else. Does Loraine have any experience working with kids who survive this kind of trauma?”
“I’ll ask her. I’ve hardly seen her the last few days, it’s been so busy. I’ll get back to you.” Lisa hung up.
Five minutes later, Lane was driving east along Memorial Drive. A light fog hung over the river. The lights near the Louise Bridge turned red, and the phone rang.
“Lane,” he said while stopping short of the crosswalk. “It’s me,” Harper said. “Still haven’t found this Jay character. Put out some flags. So if he shows up on our doorstep, we should hear about it. May have a line on his employer, though. How about you?”
“Lisa just called. Looks like Kaylie died elsewhere and was transported to the campsite. I keep remembering how clean the soles of her running shoes were. Anyway, she died before her father, but we figured that anyway,” Lane said. The light turned green, and he was able to turn right over the bridge. “I’ll be there in ten or fifteen minutes.”