“Britt.” His voice was stern. “I’m not saying we won’t talk about what happened or that I don’t think about it all the time, but right now our heads have to be in the game. We have a lifetime to work through it, but we have to find Kira now.” He turned back to watch John and Isaac.
“So maybe that bitch told you a few things,” Isaac said.
“She can positively ID every person that attended your little party. We’ve arrested everyone from the Chief of Police to town officials and your doctor friend. The party’s over Bennett, best thing you can do for yourself is talk. I want Lucas. I don’t give a shit about you. You’re small beans. Give me Lucas and I’ll recommend a deal.”
“What kind of deal?”
“That’s not up to me.”
“I have to think about it.”
John stood. “Don’t think too long. If someone talks before you do, the offer’s gone.”
John left Isaac sitting at the table and met us in the hallway. “What the hell were you thinking coming in there?”
“I wanted him to know you weren’t lying, that you did have all the information on him.”
“At your own expense?”
“Status quo.”
“I’m sorry,” John said.
“Don’t be. I’m beyond it. He can’t hurt me anymore.” I thought about my little melt down with Griff. Okay, so maybe I wasn’t beyond it. Chances were good that I never would be, but something positive had to come out of this mess. If it wouldn’t be my self-worth, then it would be John’s daughter. Who knew, maybe we still had a shot at both.
“Well you sure as hell got his attention,” John said. “That much was obvious. He knows we have him. Let him chew on that for a while.”
“You want Stebbins?” Merridan offered.
“I’ll give it a try if it’s okay with you.”
“He hasn’t talked to us. Maybe you’ll have better luck.”
Griff and I made a food run while John talked with Stebbins and we met back at the car for the rest of the trip.
“Get anywhere with Stebbins?” Griff asked handing John a brown bag, dark with grease.
“Only thing that came out of his mouth was the name of his lawyer.”
“His lawyer is probably one of Isaac’s clients too.”
“That’s my bet,” John said. He reached into his lunch bag, drew out a handful of fries then pulled back onto the highway toward Edmundston.
Grand Falls was forty miles from the border crossing at Edmundston. We pulled into the precinct’s parking lot and I rubbed my sweaty palms against my jeans for the hundredth time. On the sidewalk in front of the police department John stopped. “A number of small towns fall under Grand Falls PD’s jurisdiction, including Saint-Leonard,” he said looking at me.
I nodded. “You mean these cops oversee Rusty’s.”
“Oversee or partake. Some of these guys will be more than happy when this is over and the bar’s back in business. Keep that in mind. Any information they give us we take with a grain of salt until we know who’s who.”
Inside, the station was the picture of work ethic. No feet up on desks, uniforms pressed and clean, everyone focused and not a doughnut in sight. Un-American. The staff sergeant at the desk directed us down a hallway to Chief LeBlanc’s office. On our left, doors led into conference rooms and offices. On our right, was an open view of the bullpen. Cops of various levels working on assignment. I adjusted my baseball hat a little further down over my face. It was unlikely that I’d run into the cop who’d known Julia at Rusty’s and even if I did I didn’t think he’d recognize me out of context. It would be one of those, “Don’t I know you from somewhere?” I hoped he wouldn’t connect the dots.
Chief of Police LeBlanc rose to meet us as we came through his office door. He extended a hand to John. “Nice to see you again, Detective Stark.” He nodded to Griff and then looked at me. “And you must be the brave young woman I’ve been hearing about.” He took my hand in both of his. “It’s my pleasure to meet the heroine,” he said.
“That’s a little pre-mature.”
“You’re right, Mademoiselle Callahan there’s more to do, but you’ve accomplished much in the past few weeks.”
I decided to ignore John’s grain of salt idea when it came to Chief LeBlanc.
“Have a seat,” he said.
I glanced around the room at the buttery, leather furniture. The Canadian government knew how to take care of their men in blue.
“I’m sorry to have to tell you that Monsieur Tuton has refused to speak.”
“Monsieur Tuton?” I asked.
“I believe you know him as Clive.”
“What about Myles?”
“A few of the paying customers, the bar owner and Monsieur Tuton were the only arrests made. Who is Myles?”
“Clive’s partner.”
“It seems he has escaped us, for now.”
“Did you offer Tuton a deal?’ John asked.
LeBlanc turned to John. “Not yet. This case changed hands at the border and is now under my jurisdiction, but I know you have a lot at stake, Detective. I hope we can work on this together in ways that will satisfy us both.”
I glanced at Griff and smiled, impressed. Etiquette like this was a lost art in the U.S. Maybe this guy could teach us a thing or two.
“I appreciate that,” John said. “I assume any deal in exchange for information has to be approved by your DA. Sorry, what’s the correct title in Canada?”
“Chief Crown Prosecutor. That would be, Madame Renault. I have already arranged a meeting for later today.”
“Would you object to my speaking with Clive Touton?”
“That can be arranged. I will have one of my investigators accompany you.”
“First I’d like to go to his house and then take a look at the bar. See what I come up with.”
“Those locations are still considered crime scenes. I’m sure you’re aware of the necessary precautions.”
John held up his hands. “Won’t touch a thing.”
LeBlanc nodded. “I have units stationed at both places. I’ll radio them that you’re coming. They can escort you.”
“Appreciate it,” John said.
“Our IT department is going through the laptop we recovered from the house. They will contact me the moment they have something.”
“Good. We’ll do some sightseeing and reconvene this afternoon.”
“Very good, Detective. I’ll be here.”
We left Chief LeBlanc and took our places back in John’s Suburban. I dreaded like hell going back to Clive’s house and facing that basement again. But what had LeBlanc called me, a heroine? Who was I to ruin his fantasy? I made a fist, digging my nails into the palm of my hand. I could do it. I would do it.
“Why’s LeBlanc so agreeable?” I asked.
“He’s just as aware as we are that some of his men frequent Rusty’s. Hell, he may even be a regular himself. He’ll happily help us as long as we don’t dig too deep into the clientele.”
“And will we?”
“His men are his problem. I just want my daughter back.”
Following the directions LeBlanc gave us we took a right out of the parking lot, followed Main Street five miles out of town heading back the way we’d come. At a flashing yellow light we took a left. At the next intersection my stomach landed in my throat. A blue lettered sign hung out over the sidewalk, Campbell’s Bakery.
“That’s…” I pointed to the sign.
Griff nodded. “I see it.”
John took another left. Three story row houses on either side of the street blended one into the next, nondescript. Halfway down on the right, yellow police tape set one off from the rest. John eased the car to a stop in front and my heart started beating a hole through my chest.
Griff turned toward me from the passenger seat in front. “You don’t have to come in.”
“Yes I do,” I said and stepped out of the vehicle on shaky legs.
F
ive metal steps led to the front door. The door that Clive had led me through the night I’d arrived. Beside them, six cement steps descended to the basement. John pulled the keys that LeBlanc had given him from his pocket and tore back the yellow tape from across the stairs and chose the basement.
“There’re no windows in here,” I said as he pushed open the door.
Griff tried the light switch to his left and the naked overhead bulb gave us 20-watt voltage. John switched on his flashlight. I sucked in a breath as the room lit up. Filthy mattresses lined the floor. A few scrunched up bags from Campbell’s lay scattered on top. There was a pair of jeans and one lone sock to my right. The room still held the odor of women, unwashed women. I felt Griff’s eyes on me and turned my head not wanting to see the look on his face.
“Jesus,” John said more to himself than to us. “I’m sorry, Callahan.”
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
“She was here?”
“Yeah, she was here.”
“How long?”
“Ruth said Lucas took her from the farm roughly a month before I got there. So, she arrived here three or four weeks before I did. She was upstairs with Myles when I first arrived then he…he…” I stopped, remembering the way he’d thrown her from the top step when he’d finished with her. “Then she came down here with the rest of us,” I said.
I could see the pain in John’s eyes at my words. It was my turn to be sorry.
“There’s nothing here for us,” he said. “Let’s take a look upstairs. He led us up the wooden steps.
I stopped for a moment at the bottom remembering lying there and believing in that moment that I’d never see Griff again then I’d put my hand on the Campbell’s bag and life took a turn. Out of the depths, I thought, and joined them in the kitchen.
John was opening and closing drawers. Griff had ventured into the living room. I stepped onto the Oriental carpet and an image flashed in my head of Clive beating the crap out of me. I pushed it away fast. I was working hard to block any memory of this place. Adopting Griff’s tactic of temporary denial, but he must have seen something on my face because when I looked up he was staring at me.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yeah, I’m good.”
John rustled through a few more drawers and Griff and I headed for the stairs. I followed him up to the third floor. He stepped into the bathroom where Julia and Kira and I had showered. Where I’d told Kira that we’d get out, together.
“We showered in here,” I said looking inside the stall. Mildew crept up the walls growing out of soap scum thick as cream. I’d never noticed it before, never looked this closely, but now standing here with Griff I felt ashamed. As if I were somehow responsible for the vile appearance of the house.
Griff looked at me but didn’t speak.
“I told Kira she’d be okay. I told her we’d stick together….”
“Don’t go there, Britt.”
“LeBlanc thinks I’m a hero. I’m nowhere close. I’m a liar and a traitor. And now Kira’s lost to us because I fucked up.”
“Britt, stop.” Griff took my elbow and turned me toward him. “You did everything you could. John’s closer than he’s ever been because of you. And we’re not leaving until we find her.”
“You okay, Callahan?” John was standing outside the door.
I pulled my arm away from Griff. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t look like it. You want to go to the motel? I can drop you there before we go to the bar.”
“Good idea,” Griff said.
“No. I’m going with you.” I brushed past them both and walked down the stairs. In the kitchen I hesitated in front of the basement steps then I descended, moving over the mattresses with my eyes straight ahead and my mind blank. Reaching John’s car, I felt like I’d just run the gauntlet. I leaned against it and breathed in cool air while John locked up the house.
“We’re heading to Rusty’s,” John said and glanced at me through the rear view mirror as though giving me one more chance to opt out. I nodded and he pulled away from the curb.
Like the house, the bar’s front door was blocked by yellow police tape. And like the house, John tore it away, inserted a key and we stepped inside. The smell of stale bear and cigarettes was enough to gag us. Griff wandered down the hall to the bathrooms while John went behind the bar. Again I followed Griff. We stepped inside the ladies room. The window was still broken. I could see bits of dried blood where I’d scraped my stomach sliding out. I pointed to it. “Kira’s and my attempt,” I said. “That’s what did us in. Myles was waiting outside with a rifle.” I touched the side of my head.
“There’s nothing in here,” Griff said and ushered me out.
We stepped back into the main room. “John?” Griff called.
“In here.”
We followed his voice to the room behind the bar. Rusty’s room. The room where I’d…
“What a dump,” John said. “With all the goddamn money these guys are making off the backs of young girls…these conditions…they’re…I wouldn’t put a fucking animal through what we’ve seen today.” He picked up a chair and slammed it against the wall.
Back at the station, we met LeBlanc in his office.
“How did your tour go?” he asked.
John shrugged. “Depressing, to put it mildly.”
LeBlanc nodded. “I was left with the same impression when I made the rounds myself. Do you wish to speak with Clive?”
“Might as well,” John said.
“And you won’t tear his head from his body,” Griff asked. “If you’re alone with him?”
“I’m not making any promises,” John said as we left LeBlanc’s office to go to the holding area.
Griff and I stepped into the observation room and watched John on the other side of the glass. Clive was already seated, his hands cuffed behind his back. His hair hung in greasy strands around his face. His right knee bounced beneath the table. John took the chair across from him.
Griff reached over and took my hand. “You’re a tough cookie, Callahan.”
For the first time that day, I smiled.
“So you’re Daddy?” Clive laughed.
I flinched at the sound of his voice.
“Where is she?”
Clive sneered. “Sold to the highest bidder by now.”
“You give me Lucas, I’ll see to it that you get a deal.”
“Lucas who?” Clive sneered.
“Don’t be an ass. I’ve talked with Bennett. I know Lucas is the middleman. He’s the one I want. You and Bennett don’t mean shit to me. You’re sweat on a slug’s testicles and I don’t stoop that low.”
I laughed. It felt good. “Do slugs even have testicles?”
Griff shook his head. “Damned if I know. First time I’ve heard that one.”
“I ain’t givin’ you shit, Pop. You’re wasting your time.”
John stood and pushed his chair in then leaned across the table into Clive’s face. “You and Bennett are too stupid to know when your ass is fried and when it’s time to save yourselves. But you know what? I’m glad you’re that dumb because when I get Lucas without you, you’re both gonna fry for what you’ve done.”
“No death penalty in Canada,” Clive said.
“Who said anything about the death penalty? Guys who will take you out in exchange for reduced time are a dime a dozen. Hell, I’ll cite them for good behavior.”
Clive didn’t say anything, but the muscles in his jaw were working overtime.
We met John in the hallway. “Slug testicles?” I asked.
“You liked that one, Callahan?” He looked pleased. “I kind of liked it myself. Came out of nowhere.”
“Creative,” Griff said.
We made plans to meet LeBlanc in the morning and retreated to the motel. After a shower, I wrapped myself in a towel and joined Griff for some mindless television.
“Did you think it was a waste of time to go through the house and t
he bar today?” I asked him. “I mean the Grand Falls police already did it. The only thing they found was the computer. That’s probably our only hope of finding anything.”
“I think John needed to see where Kira had been. It gave him a sense of being close to her. It’s the first time he’s felt that in a long time.”
“But I think it made him crazy to see the conditions she was living in.”
“It couldn’t have been easy for you either.”
“It sucked.”
He stroked my hair back from my face and kissed my cheek. “What can I do?”
“Nothing. Just be here.”
Griff turned off the T.V. and the light and I rolled into his arms. I lay tight against him, chest to chest, my face buried in his neck.
WEDNESDAY
Business was well under way at the police department when we arrived the next morning.
“Help yourself,” the desk sergeant said, motioning us toward a table in the corner with a Keurig coffee maker and a box of croissants.
I was starving and didn’t hesitate. With a hazelnut K-cup brewing, I bit into a chocolate filled croissant and put another one on a paper plate.
“Hungry?” Griff asked coming up beside me and helping himself.
John made a cup of coffee and we followed him to LeBlanc’s office. He was hunched over his desk with a uniform from the IT department. He glanced up and nodded as we came into the room.
“Officer DeBolt has been working all night and it’s paid off,” he said.
“What have you got?” John asked stepping up behind them both.
“It’s the emails,” DeBolt said. “There are a number of them to someone named Lucas. Most of the conversations are in code, like this one says, “Tonight I will deliver 3 ducks to “Bon Sejour”. Bon Sejour is the repeating phrase in most of the emails and the rest of the message applies to food orders, pick-ups or deliveries.”
“The girls?” John asked.
“That’s what I’m thinking,” LeBlanc said.
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