Shadow of the Knife

by Jane Fletcher

  “You don’t have any other sisters, do you?” Ellen said, teasing, but the attempt at humor fell flat.

  “She’s a...” Valerie’s shoulders twitched, irritably. “She makes me fucking mad. I’d wondered where she’d run off to. Mom refuses to say.”

  “Don’t take it so personally. I know you feel the stupid stunts she pulls reflect on you, but they don’t. You’re not responsible. And you know she wasn’t involved this time. She was in the station lockup when the...” Ellen broke off, seeing her friend’s expression start to crumple. The whole topic was best avoided. “I only want to see if she overheard anything from the Eriksens. Or if she knows where Ade might be.”

  “She’ll lie to you.” Valerie’s voice trembled.

  “I’ll try to scare the truth out of her.”

  “You don’t have anyone else who can tell you about Ade?”

  “Her family certainly weren’t helpful.”

  “No. They wouldn’t be.” Valerie swallowed, visibly trying to muster her self-control. “Anyway, good luck with finding Fran. But I don’t think you can trust a word the little shithead says.”

  Ellen patted Valerie’s arm and turned away. Only then did she let the smile slip from her face. She could not imagine what the battle at the ford had been like, watching friends and comrades die around you, and then to live on afterward, knowing those you had left behind had been slaughtered like animals in cold blood. Valerie was clearly still going through hell, and Ellen had yet another score to settle with the Butcher and her gang—for the pain they had inflicted on her friend.

  *

  The station briefing room was empty, apart from Chris sitting at the table with a pile of reports laid out before her. No sounds came from either the lieutenant’s office or the lockup. Ellen paused just inside the door, considering checking them out first, but it would be easier to simply ask Chris.

  Ellen slid onto the bench beside her. “Hi.”

  “Hi. How are you feeling?”

  “Fine. How about you?”

  “Fine.” Chris grinned. “We’re a right pair of old crocks, aren’t we? Ready to be pensioned off.” Chris’s expression became more serious as she examined Ellen’s face. “You sure you’re okay? No headaches?”

  “No.”

  “You’re looking pained.”

  “I’ve been talking to Valerie Bergstrom. She’s still in a real state.”

  “It’s going to take a lot more than half a month to get her sorted and back on track.”

  “I know. I can’t imagine what she’s been through.”

  Chris shuffled the nearest reports into a neat pile. “Is there something you wanted to talk about?”

  “Yes. I’ve got some news.”

  “What?”

  Ellen glanced around the room and jerked her head toward Cohen’s office. “Is anyone else in?”

  “Nope. We’re alone.”

  “I think I know where Fran Paparang is. She’s at her aunt’s in Shingleford. I want to go and talk to her.”

  Chris hesitated. “You will be careful?” Her tone made it a question.

  “Of course. But it’ll be safe. Fran’s a pain in the ass, but she’s not violent when she’s on her own. She’s not going to attack me. And there won’t be anyone else in town I need to worry about.”

  “Does Dr. Miller say you’re okay to travel?”

  “She didn’t say I wasn’t.”

  “That’s not a good answer.”

  “I’m not going to be galloping flat out. Shingleford is only two days away.” Ellen paused, thinking that she would miss Hal’s next visit to Roadsend. However, there was no reason why she could not go out to Broken Hills Ranch immediately on her return.

  “Do you think talking to Fran is worth the journey?”

  “Yes. She wasn’t in with the gang but I’m sure she knows more about them than she let on. Maybe more than is good for her health. Trish and her were really close. And Trish never had the sense to know when to keep her mouth shut. I’m guessing Fran’s hiding from the Knives as much as us.”

  Chris nodded. “Okay. But you know you don’t need my permission to go.”

  “No. I’m going to discuss it with Major Kallim. But I’ll feel happier, knowing you think my reasoning is good.”

  “Well, it’s a damn sight more sensible than jumping into a boat full of armed thugs.”

  Ellen sighed and hung her head. “You too.”

  “Me too what?”

  “Hal’s already had a go at me about it.”

  “Then I agree with her.” Chris paused. “And that reminds me, I’ve found out something.”

  “About Hal?”

  “Maybe.”

  “What?”

  “An address for Cassie Drennen’s relatives. I’ve written to them.”

  “Asking if Hal is really Cassie’s niece?”

  “I wasn’t quite that blunt. I phrased it as a routine request and said that since Ahalya is in charge of the farm, we need written instructions from Cassie’s next of kin to amend the Town Hall registry—which has the added bonus of being true. If Cassie’s incapable of being responsible for the ear stamp, someone should have notified us. If it’s the first the family have heard about Hal running Broken Hills, they’ll write back asking what the hell’s going on, and if Hal’s who she claims they’ll apologize, and I’d then expect Hal to show up at the Town Hall in short order, with all the proper documentation.”

  “That would be a big relief.”

  “You like her?”

  “Uh-huh. Lots.”

  *

  Fran hefted the axe menacingly, eyeing her target as if she was contemplating murder, but after a few more seconds of indecision she dumped the axe beside the block, released a tortured sigh, and started to collect the chopped logs. She moved with the speed generally associated with seventy-year-old crones, and for every two logs she picked up, she dropped one, but eventually her arms were full. She turned in the direction of the woodshed and promptly dropped everything, seeing Ellen leaning against the roof support, watching her.

  Ellen laughed. “Goddess. I wish Valerie was here to see this. I don’t think either of us have ever known you do five minutes work before. Are you finding it a strain? You look like you’re suffering. Any blisters?”

  Fran backed away, looking around and clearly thinking about running, but there was no point. Past experience had shown that Ellen easily possessed the speed to catch her, and Fran was neither dressed nor equipped for travel. She would have to return to her aunt’s pottery before long, so Ellen could simply sit by the door and wait. The isolated village had nowhere for a fugitive to hide.

  Fran’s shoulders sagged, and she pouted sullenly at Ellen. “How did you know I was here?”

  “Your aunt told me.” Ellen scrunched her nose. “Actually, her words were ‘the lazy little shit is out the back, pretending to work,’ but I knew who she meant.”

  “No. Who told you I was in Shingleford?”

  “Nobody told me.”

  “It’s just luck that you wandered by here?”

  Fran’s skepticism was not unreasonable. Shingleford was a small village about eighty kilometers northeast of Roadsend, with a population of fewer than 200. The reason for the village’s existence was the ford over the East Tamer River and the fine clay beds nearby. Pots and raw clay were transported downriver to Roadsend, Eastford, and beyond.

  The nearest thing Shingleford had to a tavern was a space at the rear of the village store, where beer could be bought by the tankard. In the tightly knit community, strangers would be treated with suspicion, and since the village was too small to warrant a Militia station, the inhabitants might well take it on themselves to dispense justice to anyone causing them trouble. It was not somewhere Ellen could imagine Fran wanting to live, nor a place where the petty criminal was likely to be happy.

  Ellen grinned. “You know, what I don’t understand is how you’ve managed to run up a debt so quickly. I wouldn’t have thought
the storekeeper would let you drink on credit. I can’t imagine you got an invite to the local card game so soon. But from what I can see, your boots look fine.”

  “You read my letter to Mom.” Fran sounded outraged.

  “Yes. She’s put herself in a bit of a sticky spot, lying to the Militia about not knowing where you were.”

  “You leave my mom out of this.”

  “Don’t tell me you’ve developed a guilty conscience about the trouble you cause your mother.”

  Fran jerked her shoulders in a gesture of irritation. “You’ve got no reason to ask her where I was in the first place. I ain’t done anything wrong.”

  “That would be a first.”

  “So why are you here?”

  “I want to ask you some questions.”

  “I don’t know anything.”

  “You don’t know what the questions are.”

  “I’m damned sure you haven’t come all this way to ask me what my favorite color is.” Fran had clearly gotten over the surprise of being found and was ready to go on the offensive.

  Ellen pursed her lips pensively and tilted her head to the side. “Are you having fun here?”

  “No, I’m not. That’s what I want the money for. I want to go somewhere else.”

  “Is your cruel aunt making you work? That must be awful for you.”

  “Ha fucking ha. You don’t—”

  Ellen cut her off. “You see, this doesn’t strike me as your sort of place. And the only reason I can think for you being here is because you’re hiding from someone.”

  “I’m not hiding from you.”

  “So why didn’t your mom say where you were?”

  Fran scowled by way of an answer.

  “But of course, you’re not just hiding from us, are you? You’re hiding from the Butcher’s gang as well.”

  “I don’t know anything about them.”

  “Your mates, Ade and Trish, were in the gang. I’m sure they told you something.”

  “They didn’t.”

  Ellen had been advancing while she spoke. She was now within arm’s reach, close enough to stare into the other woman’s eyes. Fran shifted uncomfortably, but the chopping block hampered her retreat.

  “I wonder if you realize how serious this is. Twenty-one murdered Rangers are buried back in Roadsend. It’s not like any sort of trouble you’ve been in before, and you aren’t going to get let off by pulling a sulk and waiting for mommy to sort it out for you.”

  “I’m not—”

  Ellen carried on relentlessly. “Twenty-one women murdered. And it isn’t going to end until everyone involved has paid for it in a hangman’s noose. Us in the Militia—we’re just trying to see justice done. The Rangers I’ve spoken to are out for revenge. If they think you and your mother are trying to shield the killers, you’ll both be there as well, swinging by your necks.”

  Fran’s head shot up. “I said, leave my mother out of it.”

  “You’re the one who got her involved, when you ran off, and got her to lie about where you were.”

  “I don’t know anything.” But Fran was rattled, and a pleading edge entered her denial.

  Ellen folded her arms, letting the seconds trickle by. “You can come back to Roadsend with me.”

  “No.”

  “It wasn’t a suggestion. I’m taking you in for questioning. We’ll give you a grilling in the Militia station, and when you’ve convinced us you’re telling the truth, you can go and spend some time in the Ranger barracks and see if you can convince them. Maybe they’ll have your mom in as well.”

  Fran’s hands clenched in fists. “You can’t do that.”

  “We can too.”

  “I don’t—”

  “Yes, I know. You don’t know nothing.” Ellen paused. “Why don’t I ask you some questions, so we can find out the limits of your ignorance?”

  Fran merely stared back, but Ellen could sense that something inside her had broken.

  “When did Ade and Trish first get involved with the gang?”

  “I don’t...” Fran stopped and stared down at her feet.

  Ellen waited for her to speak.

  “Ade met up with the gang in Eastford. I don’t know how or when. The first we knew was when she came back to Roadsend.”

  “And when was that?”

  “The beginning of July.”

  “Did she try to talk you and Trish into joining?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you?”

  “No.”

  “Trish did.”

  “I told her not to. At first she listened to me, but Ade was her sister.” Fran’s voice cracked. “Now she’s dead.”

  “Why didn’t you join?”

  “Because I knew how it would end.” Fran dashed a hand across her eyes. “When Ade told us about it, I knew it wasn’t a game. It was way more serious than anything I’m going to touch.”

  “What did Ade tell you?”

  “Nothing. Just things.”

  Ellen caught hold of Fran’s arm. “Okay. We can finish this conversation in Roadsend.”

  “No.”

  Fran tried to pull away, but could not match Ellen’s strength. Still she struggled until Ellen yanked her around and thrust her backward. They ended with Fran pressed against the wall of the woodshed, and Ellen’s forearm across her throat.

  “What had Ade been doing in Eastford? What was her role in the gang?”

  Fran sagged against the wall. “You know what Ade can be like. She’s got a nasty side. The Butcher had her threatening folk, keeping them in line.”

  “Threatening or beating the shit out of them?”

  Fran shrugged as far as her pinned position allowed. “Depends if they took the threat seriously.”

  “And what’s she been doing in Roadsend?”

  “Same sort of stuff. The way she talked, she was going to end up as deputy to the Butcher.”

  “Do you know where the Butcher’s hideout is?”

  “Somewhere off in the Wildlands.”

  “Where?”

  “I don’t know. I never went there.”

  “How about Trish?”

  “I think she went a couple of times, but she only joined the gang a few days before she...she...” Fran closed her eyes, but not before Ellen saw them filling with tears.

  “You two were girlfriends?”

  “Yes.”

  The answer was no great surprise. Ellen had suspected as much for a while. She relaxed the pressure on her forearm and when Fran made no attempt to escape, she let her arm drop and stepped back.

  “And she still didn’t tell you anything?”

  “She knew I didn’t like it.”

  “How far away was the gang’s hideout?”

  “I told you. I don’t know.”

  “When Trish went there, how long did it take her?”

  “She could go there and back in a day. It took her all day, but I don’t know if she rushed, or how long she stayed. I think it was off to the southeast of town, in the canyons.”

  “Was the Butcher there in person, or just one of her henchwomen?”

  “The Butcher was there. Trish said she’d met her.”

  “Is she still there?”

  “How would I know?” Fran’s denial sounded genuine. She was clearly now talking spontaneously and maybe ready to volunteer information rather than have it dragged out of her.

  Ellen waited a few seconds “Okay. Now the really big question. Why are you hiding out here?”

  “What?”

  “I think you know something, and you’re frightened the gang might want to make sure you can’t tell anyone.”

  Fran slumped back, staring at her feet. When she spoke, her voice was a soft mumble. “I know where Ade is.”

  “Where?”

  “It’s to do with one of the gang. She’s a bit flaky and the Butcher can’t rely on her. But she does an important job, so they can’t get rid of her. I overheard Ade telling Trish. Ade was saying she wa
s going to be off for a couple of months, keeping an eye on this woman, making sure she stays in line. Ade was saying how it showed the Butcher trusted her, and she was on the way to becoming one of the Butcher’s top women.”

  “Who was the woman? Do you know anything about her?”

  “She’s in Eastford somewhere. I just overheard a bit of it. Ade was bragging away and it was all getting boring. I wasn’t paying much attention.”

  “Did you hear anything else about the woman?”

  “Her name. Susan Lewis.”

  Chapter Eleven—The Red Dog Inn

  “You will be very careful, won’t you?”

  “Yes, Mom. Bye. See you soon.”

  Ellen shouldered her pack and turned away, but before she had taken a step, Mama Roz grabbed her and wrapped her in another smothering hug.

  “I mean it. We want you back here safe.”

  “I promise. I’ll be watching out, every step of the way.”

  Ellen carefully peeled Mama Roz off her, ducked down to kiss Mama Becky’s cheek, and made her escape. Only when she was safely out of earshot did Ellen give vent to her feelings in a deep sigh. It felt as if she had been escaping from people all morning. Already she had been in another argument with Terrie Rasheed, and had only narrowly avoided being cornered by a tearful Mandy Colman.

  At the end of the road, Ellen stopped briefly to wave back at her mothers, who were still watching from the cottage door, and then marched on, through the twisting Northside dirt streets, until reaching the main Newbridge Road. With luck she would get to the docks without being waylaid again. Ellen did not want any more fuss. However, as she crossed the Clemswood Road another voice hailed her.

  “Ellen. Wait.”

  Ellen looked back. Hal was jogging toward her.

  “Hey. I didn’t think to see you in town.” Ellen could not stop the grin spreading across her face. Maybe there were some types of fuss she could handle.

  Hal cannoned into her, grabbing her in a fierce embrace that was so very different from her mother’s. “When did you get back?”

  “Last night.”

  “And now you’re leaving again?”

  “I won’t be gone long.”

  “You couldn’t send me a message?” Hal sounded annoyed. “You run off without a word. You don’t tell me you’re back. And now you’re off again.”