Kill Her Twice

by G A Pickstock

  “Yes, ma’am, no problem, but what about the woman-guy in the lot?”

  “There’s no law against running in a parking lot, now scram.” Jen turned her attention back to Emily. She was still woozy, and the constable worried that something serious might be wrong. Woman-guy get a grip. Where are those damned medics?

  David passed back through the security door leading to the cells and was almost flattened by the two paramedics as they rushed past him to attend to Emily.

  “The medics are here.”

  “I can see that. Thank you. You do have a grasp of the obvious. Listen, why don’t you go outside and investigate that woman-guy runner. See what you can dig up.” Jen glanced at the taller medic and winked.

  “Really, are you sure it’s OK?” David’s face lit up at the possibility.

  “Sure, it’s OK. Find out what you can and report back to me.”

  She laughed as the door closed behind the auxiliary newbie. “He’s cute, but he’s a moron.” Turning her attention back to Emily, she watched as the second medic checked her blood pressure. “Is she going to be OK?”

  “I think so. She just seems a little dehydrated.” Turning his attention back to Emily, he asked, “You were at All-Comm earlier, weren’t you?”

  Emily nodded.

  “I thought so. I saw you there. It was damn hot in that parking lot; you probably lost a lot of fluids. Have you had anything to eat or drink today?”

  Emily shook her head. “Just a cup of tea earlier, but I didn’t drink it all.”

  “Are you diabetic?”

  “No, I don’t think so. Why?”

  “I think you’re fine.” He turned back to Jen, “She’ll be fine. Just get her something to eat and a bottle of water. Her vitals are good. My guess is, she is suffering from a combination of heat exposure and dehydration. I don’t imagine the stress of this place is doing her any good either.”

  “Fine, I’ll get her some—”

  The security door flew open, slamming against the concrete wall with a bang. David Conger stood wide-eyed and pale as a sheet, gasping for breath. “You—you’ve got to come”—he took another deep breath, “Now! It’s the s-sergeant. Something’s wrong, come now!” Grabbing the arm of the taller medic, David pulled him toward the door. “NOW! HE NEEDS HELP! NOW!”

  The medic looked at Jen for direction. “Go! We’ve got this. I’ll be there in a minute.” Christ! Is there no one else in the detachment? Why is everyone looking to me? Spinning around to the other medic, she nodded toward Emily, “Watch her. I’ll be right back.” Moments later, she returned with a doughnut and a bottle of water. Stuffing them in Emily’s hands, she turned to the medic. “Let’s go see what has young David’s panties in a bunch.” The duo dashed out of the cell. The door closed with the unmistakable clack of the lock engaging, leaving Emily wondering what was happening.

  Before they could get through the back door, they met the taller medic coming back in. His ashen face told the story, and it wasn’t good.

  “What’s going on? Where is David?”

  “I told him to stay with the body until Doc Gentry gets here.”

  “What! What body? Where?” Jen couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “What—Who?”

  The paramedic looked down at the constable, his six-foot frame overshadowing her diminutive size. He put his hand on her shoulder. “I’m afraid the sergeant is dead.”

  “Dead! What do you mean he’s dead? He can’t be dead; I just left him half an hour ago, Jesus— God! DEAD? No way!” Jen bolted out the back door. She hurried to the truck where David stood guard. It was ethereal, like a dream almost. Dan’s lifeless form lay stretched out, face down in a pool of blood, a large gash on the side of his head. “Oh, my God!” For a moment, she was unsure what to do next. Totally bewildered, she fell back on her training. “Get inside and get some cops out here. I want this area secured.” Now what? Who’s next in charge? Who’s the senior officer now? Her stomach flipped as the answer came to her. Oh, Jesus, what do I do now? Pulling her phone from her pocket, she dialled the number.

  “Colm, it’s Jen. You need to come to the office now!”

  Chapter 18

  “I

  have to go,” said Colm. “They need me back at the detachment.”

  He’d wanted to engage them a little longer. The small voice inside him told him they knew far more about Kallita’s disappearance and were on the verge of disclosing everything. Most guilty people have a compulsive desire to talk about their actions. Many times, the urge to confess is uncontrollable. It might take years, but sharing information with someone who might understand and offer absolution for the sin releases the guilt. His Catholic background taught him this. Having a priest to confess to was a pillar of the Catholic faith. Someone who would listen and not judge, but instead accept and offer forgiveness, was a potent tool. Colm had that quality about him. People seemed to want to tell him the truth, and if his mother had had her way, he would have become a priest, but celibacy was too high a price to pay for the privilege of listening to other people’s sins. Another hour with these two and he might have the whole story, but Jen was adamant that he return to the detachment. This would have to wait.

  “I’d like to pick this up again soon. I think you might have more insight into Kallita’s disappearance than you realize.” Colm stood to leave.

  “There’s nothing more to add, Detective. I get the feeling you’re not being straight with us. If there’s a next time, I want a lawyer.” Mark shot Mary a look, commanding her silence. She nodded her agreement.

  “No offence, Detective, but my husband is right. We don’t know what happened to Kallita, but if something bad did befall her, then it could look pretty bad for us. I’ll walk you to your car.”

  “Sure, that won’t be necessary. I can find my own way.” Colm left the pair standing on the deck.

  * * *

  Mark watched from the corner of his deck as the Colm pulled out of the driveway. Satisfied that he wasn’t going to return, he grabbed his phone from the glass patio table and dialled a number.

  “Alan? Mark Taylor here. I’ve just had a chat with the OPP. Just a head’s up, he may be coming to see you. Oh — I see, so he’s already talked to you. Well, I hope you didn’t tell him about our little deal. I’d hate to think I’d have to drop you in it. After all, we both agreed it was time. Good—that’s all I need to hear.” He tapped his phone to end the conversation and dialled another number.

  “Jim? We need to meet. Your place this afternoon. Tell Audri to be there. What’s it all about? Damage control, my friend, damage control. I’ll see you in an hour.” He tried another number. Hmm, Voicemail? “It’s me; we need to talk. Meet me at Jim Roberts’s place. One hour.”

  “Honey, grab your purse; we’ve gotta go.”

  “Go where?” Mary picked up her purse from the kitchen table. “I’m not dressed to go out, I haven’t even got any makeup on.”

  “Don’t worry about that. Besides, you look fine, we’ve got some shit to do, and then we need to get over to Jim Robert’s place. I’ll tell you in the car. Lock up, and meet me out front.” He tried the previous number one last time. Voicemail, damn it!

  * * *

  Colm wheeled his Mini into the detachment parking lot and parked. The scene before him confused him even more. An ambulance and the coroner’s car and more cops than he’d seen in the office at one time since Christmas, surrounded Dan Clifford’s pickup truck. Jaysus, Mary and Joseph, what the hell’s goin’ on here? Yellow crime scene tape blocked off the back section of the compound. Jen was standing by Dan’s truck, talking to someone in a white coverall. He ducked under the tape and walked over to her.

  “What’s going on, Jen? You know Himself’s not going to like—” The sight of Dan Clifford lying on the ground stopped him cold.

  “Aww! Naw! Shite! Is he—?”

  “Dead? Yes, he’s dead.” Jen looked up at the tall Irishman. “And before you ask how, we don’t know yet. Do
c Gentry needs to examine him first.” She grabbed Colm by the arm, pulling him back toward the building. “We need to talk. Inside.”

  Colm followed Jen through the rear entrance and down the corridor to his office. Almost pushing him inside, she shut the door behind them.

  “Have a seat.” The authority in her voice sounded foreign to him. Jen was usually easy-going and bubbly; some might even say air-headed, but Colm knew better. Many times her innocent demeanor had been mistaken for obtusity. She was a good cop with a keen eye for detail, a fact often overlooked by some of the more senior officers. But this was different. There was a force in her voice; purpose in her manner. Colm sat without question.

  “You’ve been suspended, but we have a serious problem.”

  “Sure, you might say that. Clifford, dead, I can’t believe it. Have you any idea how?”

  “Not yet. I was booking—” Oh shit! He doesn’t know about Emily! Jen became flustered. “You need to sit down—shit, you are sitting—well I need to tell—now don’t get mad—I was just doing my job—oh Christ, how do I tell you that Clifford arrested Emily—or rather he had me do it. Now he’s dead, and I don’t know what to do.” The authority in her voice had vanished, and now she sounded desperate and confused.

  “Arrested! Emily? What for?” Colm dug his fingers into the arms of the leather office chair. He felt the heat of his blood rushing to his face. “Arrested, is he crazy? What could he possibly be charging her with? Where is she? I want to see her!” He bolted out of his chair sending it skidding into the printer stand. It was then that the image on the security monitor caught his eye. A forlorn-looking woman sat motionless on a cot in an eight by ten holding cell. Yanking his office door open, he sped down the corridor with Jen close on his heels.

  “Colm, wait! You can’t go in there. You’re on suspension.”

  “Do you think I give a rat’s arse about a bloody suspension? Now let me in there!”

  “We need to talk about Clifford. We need to figure—”

  “To hell with Clifford! He’s dead, and I’m not feeling too sorry for him just now. Now let me in here, or there’ll be hell to pay!”

  Jen relented and opened the door to the holding area.

  Marching straight to Emily’s cell, he demanded, “Open it! Let her out!”

  “I can’t do that, she’s under arrest.”

  “Load o’ bollocks! Under arrest for what? Let her out. I want to talk to her. Give me your card.” Colm snatched Jen’s card from her hand and pressed it against the card reader. The lock clicked, and he pulled the door wide.

  Tears poured forth from Emily’s face as she saw Colm standing in the doorway. Leaping from the cot, she flung herself into his arms, throwing her arms around him, holding him tightly as she buried her tear-drenched face into his chest. Colm wrapped his arms around her and squeezed. He felt her heartbeat as she pressed against him. She trembled under his embrace and held him even tighter. She felt good in his arms, and he knew instantly that there was no way he would let her return to that cell. Gently, he separated himself from her, and turned her toward the exit, leading her back to his office. The only sound that of her quiet sobs as Emily calmed herself. Angry with Jen for not letting him know sooner, he closed the door behind them and retrieved the wayward office chair.

  “Here, love, sit here.” He held the chair for Emily to sit down. Turning to Jen, his six-foot frame towering over her, he motioned for her to sit as well. He was in charge now.

  “Now then, you had better tell me what is going on here. Don’t leave anything out.”

  Chapter 19

  The commotion at the police detachment sent a shiver of excitement down Diane’s spine. Watching from the safety of her vehicle, she smiled at the thought of the turmoil she had caused. Killing Frieda was easy. Too easy. After twenty-five years, how could she possibly have expected it? The surprised look, and then the terror in her eyes, was exquisite. Her smile widened as she savoured the moment in her mind. All that time lost, wasted in mediocrity. The same mediocrity she had loathed, and by some sick twist of fate, she’d endured it for two and a half decades. Her rage intensified at the memory.

  Dr. Chuck Dorsette cared about his patients. He always took a personal interest in them, many times visiting them at their home after discharging them. His concern for their recuperation and post-operative healing was legend in the medical community. So it came as no surprise when he took a particular interest in the patient who was now known throughout the hospital as Diane Doe. Some of the staff called her Didi. Chuck kept a close watch on her as her healing progressed. Keeping her in the hospital became a bit of a juggling act. He could not justify tying up a bed with someone who, in any other circumstance, would be sent home. There were unused rooms in the old section of the hospital generally reserved for the family of terminally ill patients who were close to the end. Keeping her hidden from the administration was a challenge.

  As each day passed, he spent more and more personal time with Didi, often seeing her during coffee and lunch breaks and before leaving for home after his shift ended. Finally, the day came when the administrators declared that Diane had to go. Chuck argued in vain to keep her there. She had no memory, and no one had come looking for her. Keeping her in hospital on the grounds of studying her amnesia was weak at best, and he finally had to sign the discharge papers.

  “But where will I go?” Diane sobbed into her pillow. “I have no one, I can’t leave. What will I do?”

  Chuck saw the fear in her eyes, the uncertainty of her future. What he had in mind wasn’t professionally prudent, but he could not let this sorrowful woman be cast out with no hope.

  “I shouldn’t do this,” he started. “It is totally against protocol. I have a spare room at my place. You are welcome to it. That is, if you want to. The only thing is, you’ll have to share the bathroom with me as I only have one. Stay as long as you need to, and we’ll get you set up into some occupational therapy so that you can find work, and get your own place someday.”

  Diane moved in, and two years later, they were married. Shortly after, Chuck accepted a position in a prestigious Toronto hospital, and the couple moved to the big city. Diane had an unexplainable affinity for Toronto. She was euphoric when Chuck announced that they would be moving. As the wife of a doctor she soon became familiar with medical practices, and eventually took over managing his private practice. Dealing with the administrative aspects of the office came easily to Diane, and the next twenty years flew by. She woke up one Monday morning to find her husband still lying beside her.

  “Chuck, you need to get up, you’re late.” She pushed him on the shoulder. When he didn’t stir, she tried again. “Come on, Chuck! Get up!” She pushed him harder this time, causing the bedcovers to fall away. His hand was pale and bluish in colour. Checking for his pulse, she felt his skin was much colder than normal.

  “Oh, God, no! Please, No!” She snatched the phone off the nightstand and dialled 911.

  Chuck’s death was a shock to Diane, but for some reason she could not bring herself to grieve over his loss. Quietly resolved to a life without her mate of twenty years, she settled into her solitary life, comfortable in the knowledge that her financial needs were covered, and that she could live quite comfortably on Chuck’s insurance money.

  * * *

  The ease with which she took out Dan Clifford surprised her. She hadn’t planned it. Her memory of Dan Clifford was complete, ex-brother-in-law, policeman and asshole. She knew that it was he who had visited her in that hospital room. Dan couldn’t have known about the amnesia, but he left me there anyway. He left me in that hospital, alone and helpless. As she drove by the OPP detachment, she couldn’t fight the impulse to pull into the parking lot. She drove around the lot and spied a black pickup truck with the license plate that read CLIFFORD. She couldn’t resist. Dianne parked her car across the street in front of another building. Circling around on foot, she entered the police lot from the rear of the building and made he
r way over to Clifford’s truck. An opportunity to mess with him was too good to turn down, and her intent was to slash a tire or damage his truck in some minor way, just to darken his day a little. Surprised at being discovered, she had to react quickly. Keeping her back to him, the ruse worked, and when he pushed her out of the way, she seized the opportunity. Instinctively, she drew the syringe from her pocket and jabbed it into his neck, injecting the full load into him. Not waiting to see the result, she had to escape. Her curiosity overpowered her logic. She’d returned and parked in the same place, watching with relish the carnage before her. The bastard got what he deserved. I only wish I’d had the time to make him suffer the way I did.

  Killing him would surely turn up the heat, and there were more debts to pay. The image of her attacker was burned into her mind. She was positive it had been a conspiracy. He didn’t have the mental capacity to pull it off on his own. Time was running out, and her list was slowly getting shorter. She slipped the car into gear as the ambulance pulled out of the parking lot. In her haste to follow the ambulance, she inadvertently crossed to the wrong side of the road, almost smashing into a black Mini Cooper. She didn’t care. Everything was clear, as though it all happened yesterday. She was back in the place she hated the most. Despite the past twenty-five years living a life totally opposite to the one she now recalled, Kallita questioned how she could have done it for so long.

  * * *

  With his suspension in force, Colm realized someone was going to have to pick up the slack.

  “Jen, you need to call regional and have them send down an investigator. I can’t do anything because of the suspension. From what you tell me, there are two suspicious deaths to look into. Jaysus, I can’t believe that two people associated with Kallita are dead. It can’t be a coincidence. This is a first for me.” Colm scratched at the stubble on his chin as he considered his next move. “I know why he suspended me, and now that he’s dead, I think you should know that I suspect he knew more about Kallita Prewitt’s case than he let on. And it was something he didn’t put in the files. He was afraid I — we might find out about it. What do you think was in Dan’s mind when he had you arrest Emily?”