by J C Paulson
“No one important,” he said, pulling Grace in to his body. “This is all that matters right now. Right now, I want to kiss your breasts.”
He pulled her into the shadows between two enormous trees; only a sliver of light illuminated them. Adam kissed Grace’s mouth, then lowered his head and gently touched the tops of her breasts with his lips. She caught her breath.
“Take me back to the hotel, Adam.”
Chapter Sixteen
Adam awakened first the next morning. Desire somewhat slaked for the time being, and soothed by the lovemaking, there had been no nightmares; just sweet, surrendered sleep.
Grace was facing him, which was unusual because they often slept curled together, Adam behind Grace. He regarded her face, pink with warm sleep, her lips slightly parted, her hair in curly disarray around her face and shoulders.
He managed not to touch her, not wanting to awaken her. Not yet. He had a growing sensation Grace was one of those rare people who was constantly, immediately, ready for anything.
In the early spring, after the bishop had been murdered and she had been attacked, she was willing to help at a moment’s notice — even from her hospital bed. Last week, harrowing as it was, she accompanied Suzanne to the police station at a moment’s notice, in the middle of the night of the murder. Yesterday, when they had little time to get ready for dinner, she went from naked to elegantly, simply dressed and made up in ten minutes flat.
It all fit with her sexuality. Passion flowed through her like some tumbling, erotic river, he thought, as Grace moved, stretched and opened her eyes.
“Hey, handsome,” she said, when she saw Adam looking at her. “Good morning.”
“Hey, beautiful. How did you sleep?”
“Gloriously. And you?”
“Really well.”
“Glad to hear it, Adam.” Then she sighed. “We’d better get our skates on. The flight’s in three hours.”
“I am so sorry, Grace. About all of it. I swear we will go to California, as soon as we possibly can. I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”
Grace had to swallow hard, to hide her disappointment and forestall the tears from springing into her eyes. But at least they had had an interlude in Vancouver before having to face the mess back home.
Then she climbed on top of Adam.
“We have a few minutes before we have to go.” Grace dipped her head and ran her tongue lightly over Adam’s lips before slipping it between them.
*****
The trip back was uneventful, and quiet. Adam and Grace, sensing their shared disappointment, spoke little. They were back in their respective offices, luggage in tow, by early afternoon. Pushing down his lingering desire, Adam strode into the office.
The entire police service greeted him with “Hey, welcome back, stranger!” or “We were starting to think you were going to stay in California.” Dumb shit like that, and worse. But he was privately pleased, and even moved, by the comments and welcomes.
Adam unlocked his office door to find a balloon with “Welcome Home” tattooed on it. Really? he thought, grinning; you’d think I’d been away for a year. He leaned over to start his computer and then went to find James.
“Welcome back,” said the constable. “Ready to meet?
“You bet. Come to my office.”
Once settled, they started with the autopsy results.
“What killed Sherry Hilliard, and how far along was she?” Adam asked.
“Ms. Hilliard was just over three months pregnant,” James said. “She was definitely killed by stabbing. McDougall found fourteen wounds; the worst were in her heart and stomach and liver, which is why she bled out so badly. More like deep slashes. But she also had a significant head injury.”
“How significant?”
“Pretty bad bash above and behind the temple,” said James, showing Adam the photo. “It’s not as bad as Grace’s was on the outside, but apparently caused quite a lot of damage inside.”
“Did McDougall say whether it could have killed her, if she hadn’t been stabbed as well?”
“It’s possible. The hit on the head came before the stabbings.”
“James. Tell me. Did she have Hep C or HIV? Or any other awful blood-borne shit?”
“No, Sarge. She did not,” said James with vigour.
“Thank God. Have you told Joan and the coroner?”
“Yes, Adam. First thing I did.”
At least his people were safe, after wading in a bloody basement for an hour. “Anything else I should know about the autopsy?” Adam asked.
“There were bruises and the usual other injuries after an attack, all minor — obviously — compared to the head injury and the stab wounds. She had a big bruise on one hip; I’m wondering if the killer dropped her down into the basement and she landed on it.”
“Okay. Any progress on the SUV?”
“Yeah, a little bit. The vehicle was on the lot at Luxury Motors for servicing, but it was stolen overnight. The dealership reported it the following morning. Of course we weren’t looking for stolen cars at the time in our department, but we have the sheet now. The SUV has not been found.”
“It’s not going to be found unless we get extremely lucky,” said Adam. “Is that it?”
“No, there’s one more thing. I’ll remind you of the three women we discussed a couple of days ago, as well as Sherry Hilliard: Deborah Clairmont, raped and threatened but survived; Alexis Ironstand and Emily Martin, both missing. The four sisters, as they appear.”
James paused. He knew this was going to upset Adam.
“Alexis Ironstand was a dental patient at Sherry’s clinic. We found her name on the client list.”
Adam closed his eyes. What he already knew in his heart and gut was now confirmed in his mind.
“Who was her dentist?”
“All of them, apparently. They have a care model where whichever dentists are working on a given day handle the patients. She may well have encountered Dunlop, but also the others.”
Adam took a breath. “We’re officially considering this a multiple. We almost certainly have a serial killer out there. Keep me posted on any other connections between these women.”
“You bet, Adam. I’m sorry, Adam,” said James.
“Yeah. Me too.”
*****
As soon as he left Adam’s office, James dialled Nick Delacroix. The receptionist put him through.
“Hey, Nick, James Weatherall here. How are you doing?”
“Great. And you?”
“Working hard on this case, and have to ask you about the stolen SUV.”
“Absolutely, James. What do you need to know? Bloody awful thing, having a vehicle stolen from the lot, damn it.”
“Yes. Has it happened before?”
“A couple of times. It does happen, once in a while.”
“I am assuming, since it’s a Porsche, the keys were taken. Pretty hard to hotwire a high-end car.”
“Yeah. Someone took the keys.”
“Any sign of a break-in?”
“None I could detect. We lock up well around here. And it would be pretty hard for someone to lift the keys from behind the service desk, but it could be done. No one on staff is aware of being distracted, but you never know.”
“I hate to ask this, but could it have been a staff member?”
“I hate to even think about it, James. I don’t know of anyone on staff who would do such a thing. Plus, it would be pretty stupid, right? Why not steal a car elsewhere? I really don’t think it was one of my people.”
“No one took the day off, for sickness or anything, the day after?”
“Nope. All hands on deck.”
“Okay, Nick. Much appreciated. Let me know if the vehicle turns up.”
“Of course, James. Thanks for calling.”
“Thanks for the information, Nick. Later.”
*****
Now she was back in the newsroom, Grace’s brain was on fire, wondering what the new d
evelopments were in the case. What could Adam tell her? They had to sort this out — especially for this particular murder case, since Suzanne was still, according to Adam and Lorne, not in the clear.
Her phone rang. It was Adam. They had only been back for a couple of hours; why was he calling?
“Grace. It’s me. I have to tell you something,” he said immediately.
“Of course. What is it, Adam?” asked Grace, worried. His tone was dark and low.
“I shouldn’t, but I have to,” he said. “Can you meet me right now? Maybe in the park?”
“Yes. I’ll meet you by the gazebo? Ten minutes?”
“See you there.”
Grace was two minutes ahead of Adam. She stood in the public gazebo, staring out over the rapidly-flowing river, wondering what he would say. Her stomach lurched.
Adam arrived, took her by the shoulders, kissed her and looked at her intently. Grace knew this was important; this was where their work and personal relationships would intersect.
“Adam,” said Grace, holding his gaze. “Anything you say to me now is completely confidential, including from a reporting standpoint. You are obviously concerned about something, and I’m worried about what it is. We’ll talk about the general rules of engagement later. Please, Adam. Tell me.”
He looked down and ran a hand through his hair; Grace already recognized the action as something he did when upset or worried. She waited, as patiently as possible.
He looked up again, breathed in, and said, “I am positive whoever killed Sherry Hilliard has killed before. And he will kill again.”
“Can you tell me why you think so?”
“There is a woman who was attacked about two years ago. She was raped, and he intended to kill her — or so he told her. There are two other women who are missing. All three of them are, or were, in their early twenties or late teens. And they look so similar, they could all be Sherry Hilliard’s sisters.
“James told me one of them was a patient at the dental clinic where Sherry worked. We have a definite link between them. My gut, and now my brain, are sure we have a multiple killer.”
“What,” asked Grace around a lump in her throat, “do these women look like?”
“Petite. Five-foot-three or under, and slim. Medium skin, brown eyes, very long, dark hair.”
Grace stared at Adam. She instantly knew what that meant. Suzanne, her beautiful brown-eyed, dark-maned, tiny friend could be in more danger than they thought, and not just because the killer might consider her a witness in Sherry’s murder. Anger burned in her stomach; Grace fought back the tears forming in her eyes.
“Is there anything else?”
“Yes. Sherry was pregnant. Three and a half months or so.”
“Were any of the others pregnant?”
“Not that we know of. The woman who survived her attack was not. James and Charlotte are reaching out to the families of the other missing women.”
“I know you weren’t sure of this until now, Adam. But could you have told me earlier?”
“I’m not sure. What are you saying?”
“I’m wondering how long you’ve suspected a serial killer.”
“About a day and a half.” He drew a breath. “It’s why I had to come back immediately.”
“I have to call Suzé. Right now.”
“Wait. Please, Grace. What are you thinking?”
“Suzanne is in danger. Isn’t that why you’re telling me this?”
“Yes. Is she not at her parents’ farm, though? Safe with her family?”
“No. She’s picking up her car today. Her father is bringing her in and dropping her off, then returning to the farm. She’s planning to stay in the city, at least for a couple of days.”
“Didn’t she agree to stay out there until we got back?”
“She did, until the car thing happened. Now she has to go and pick it up. Plans change, Adam.”
“You’re angry with me, Grace.”
Grace realized, as her stomach flipped, she was, and it was obvious in her rising voice.
“I am. I don’t know how reasonable I’m being. I’m upset; I’m worried about Suzanne. I have to call her now.”
“I need to be part of this conversation if there’s something we need to do officially. Please, Grace.”
Grace nodded. She dug her phone out of her purse and called Suzanne. Pick up the phone, her brain yelled at her friend. Pick it up.
Suzanne didn’t answer. Grace tried the Genereux family home. Suzanne’s mother answered.
“Bonjour, Grace,” said Marie. “Comment ça va? How are you?”
“Bien, merci, Marie,” said Grace, thinking there was little time for pleasantries. “Is Suzanne there?”
“Non. Henri has taken her into the city to pick up her car. Is everything all right?”
“Yes, Marie. I just need to speak with her, and she didn’t answer her cellphone. How long ago did they leave?”
“Only about ten minutes ago. You just missed them.”
“I will try her again. Thank you, Marie. Hope to talk to you soon, for longer.”
“Et tu, Grace. Au revoir.”
Grace hung up. “She’s on her way into Saskatoon, about ten minutes out of St. Denis. What can I do, Adam?”
“Where is she going?”
“Luxury Motors. A young man in a tow truck drove by her car a few minutes after it broke down, and took it there.”
Grace glared at her phone, willing Suzanne to call her back, but the damn thing was silent. She tried her again. Nothing. Grace looked down, trying to keep her nerves from splitting.
“Now what?” she asked Adam.
“Here’s what,” said Adam. “I’ll get someone out to Luxury Motors in an unmarked car. We have to persuade her to go back to the farm, with one of us as escort, or she has to find a hotel room. Also with escort. She can’t go home.”
“I doubt a hotel will take Bruno,” said Grace. “She can stay at my place, can’t she?”
“Yes. She can.” Adam’s heart sank; he wanted more time with Grace, and he wasn’t expecting this change in plans. He grabbed his own cellphone and called James.
“Sarge,” said James. “What’s up?”
“James, I need you to get a detective over to Luxury Motors right now. Plain clothes. Unmarked car. Do it now, and then I’ll explain. I’ll hold on.”
What the hell? James looked at the staff board, and decided to give Lorne Fisher the assignment. Lorne was free, apart from paperwork, and in plain clothes.
“Lorne,” he called. “Got a minute?”
“What’s up?”
“Can you grab a ghost car and head over to Luxury Motors right away? I’ll get on the radio with you as soon as I figure out what’s going on. Adam’s on the phone.”
“Right,” said Lorne, plucking keys off the board and heading out. Man of few words, but a man of action, thought James.
“Lorne is on his way. What’s going on?” James asked Adam, returning to the phone.
“Suzanne Genereux is, right now, coming back into Saskatoon. Her father is driving her to Luxury Motors to pick up her car, which broke down on the highway a few days ago. It got towed to Luxury to be fixed. Particularly in light of our conclusions of this morning, I don’t want her going home. Tell Lorne if she won’t go back to the farm to take her to Grace’s. Obviously, she knows the address.”
“And you’re also worried because the SUV was stolen from the Luxury lot.”
“Yes.”
“Got it. I’ll tell Lorne. And I’ll tell him to keep a low profile.” James laughed hard at his little joke. Lorne Fisher couldn’t keep a low profile in a crowd of Sumo wrestlers.
Even Adam laughed, a little.
“Call me when Lorne gets her.”
“Of course, Sarge. Don’t worry. We’ve got this.”
Adam profoundly hoped James was right, as he watched Grace sprint back to the StarPhoenix, and her car.
Chapter Seventeen
L
orne was already halfway to the car dealership when James got him on the radio.
“Lorne.”
“Yeah, James.”
“Suzanne Genereux is on her way to the dealership to pick up her vehicle. We weren’t expecting her to come back into town, but Adam learned from Grace she’s on her way, and Grace can’t reach her on her cell. Adam doesn’t want her to go home, so if she can’t be persuaded to go back to the farm with her dad, she has to go to Grace’s.”
“So how do I handle this? I can’t just walk in there and kidnap her.”
“I know. And we don’t want everyone to know you’re there in an official capacity, especially because the SUV was stolen off the lot.”
“I’ll check out the cars in the outdoor lot,” said Lorne. “With any luck I can intercept her before she gets to the service area. I’m almost there, by the way.”
“Make sure you’re not followed when you leave. Last thing we need is for someone to know where Suzanne is staying. Not to mention where Grace lives.”
“You think?” said Lorne, snark dripping from the words.
“Sorry, Lorne. I guess I’m a little jazzed about this case, and Adam sure as hell is.”
“No problem. I’m there. Will get back to you.”
Lorne parked the unmarked police vehicle on the street, did a quick visual check and climbed out as nonchalantly as possible. It was hard for Lorne to go anywhere unnoticed, so he affected a shambling sort of innocence whenever he had to go undercover. It usually worked.
He wandered onto the car lot and began checking out the used vehicles, which were closer to the service department door than the new inventory. Besides, used cars matched up with his persona better than shiny new Porsches.
No one bothered him, and five minutes later, he saw a very big truck turn the corner and come down the street. Inside were a man, a woman and a huge dog.
Suzanne’s father manoeuvred his enormous Ford through the used vehicles and stopped near the service door. Lorne walked quickly over to meet them, trying a hail-fellow-well-met expression on his face. As Suzanne opened the door, she saw Lorne; but before she could react, he plunged into a greeting.