by H. P. Bayne
For his part, Dez planned on ensuring they had some concrete evidence to present to investigators before they took it forward.
Olivia smiled and nodded knowingly, despite Dez’s best attempts at fibbing. But Dez held his tongue, and Sully was doing likewise next to him—an easier feat for Sully at the best of times.
Whether she’d been expecting further information or had decided it was all the answer she needed was anyone’s guess. Whatever the case, Olivia didn’t press further on that count.
“The two of you will go forward with your findings once you get something concrete?” she asked.
“We will,” Dez said.
“All right. That’s good enough for me, I suppose. I’ve approached the Crown’s office, asking them to have Major Crimes look into my client’s claims; so far, I’m unconvinced anything of note has happened. No one has gone to reinterview Danny yet, which I find disturbing. I think the powers that be think Danny’s just back-pedalling now that he sees a life sentence looming, and they don’t want to waste resources given other investigations.”
“What is it they have on Danny exactly?”
“Not much. According to the disclosure I’ve received, all they really have is his confession and her blood at their house. Granted, that’s a lot typically, but it also fits with his new explanation.”
“Which is?”
Olivia leaned forward, knitting her fingers atop her desk as she launched into the story. “Danny and Breanna met about a decade ago when they were both in their early-to-mid-twenties. They lived hard back then, but they decided to work together to get themselves cleaned up. And they worked their asses off at it. There were a few slips. A look at either of their criminal records will tell you that. But overall, they held the course, and both have been sober for close to five years now. As you may be aware, Breanna has been heavily involved in helping people on the street, particularly young street workers trying to change their lives. Danny got his high-school equivalency and started working in the construction trade. He’d been very busy and had been pulling in some decent money for them.
“But then Danny fell off the wagon. He swears to me, as he told police, it was just the one time. It was a co-worker’s birthday and they all went out for the night. You can guess how things went. Danny bowed to peer pressure. He told me he thought he’d be okay if he just nursed one for the night. But one of the guys started buying rounds, and then shots. And the next thing he knew, he was under the table.
“Danny remembers heading home and the inevitable fight with Breanna. She was a kind woman, but tough, he said, and that was one of the biggest reasons he stayed on the wagon all that time. But all you have to do is look at Danny’s record to see he’s a different person when he’s drinking. He’s soft-spoken and thoughtful sober, but drunk, he’s got a history of assault against anyone within reach—domestic partners, friends, strangers, police, it didn’t matter. I’m afraid that’s why the police and the Crown don’t believe him now.
“Anyway, everything gets a little fuzzy for Danny around the time he left the bar. He isn’t sure how he got home, and he doesn’t remember when he got there. He’s got a recollection of the argument, but not all of it. The last thing he remembers is punching Breanna in the face. He thinks she must have fallen and hit her head, because there was a bloodstain there the next morning. But no Breanna. She was just gone.”
“I don’t remember there being a missing person report,” Dez said.
Olivia shook her head. “He didn’t file one. He just thought she left him. He says he called a few of her family members but everyone told him they hadn’t seen her. He thought it was very possible they were lying to him to protect Breanna, so he went to see a few of them. The investigation confirmed all that. It also confirmed he went to The Hub to see if she had been there, and he was told no. He says he considered filing a missing person report at that point, but ultimately didn’t. She knew a lot of people he didn’t through her work, and he believed she had gone to stay with a friend he didn’t know. He figured she’d turn up again soon.”
“But she was injured,” Dez said. “He wasn’t worried about that?”
“There wasn’t so much blood that it would be worrying. He thought she was well enough to get up and leave, so she had to have been okay. A couple days later, someone found her body in the basement of an abandoned house. Obviously, investigators looked at Danny first. By then, he had fallen completely off the wagon and he put up a fight with police in what I believe was an attempt at suicide-by-cop. But police took him in safely and he’s been in custody since.
“To say Danny was shattered would be putting it mildly. Breanna was his whole world, his reason for living. He’s got a teenaged daughter somewhere, but he lost custody and never sought it again after he sobered up. He told me there are no words to describe the level of guilt he felt that he started drinking again, that he let Breanna down so badly, that he hurt her physically and emotionally, that he didn’t report her missing. And he has no memory. For a while, he actually believed what the police were telling him in the interview room, that he might well have killed her. And so he provided a confession.”
“What exactly was this confession?” Dez asked.
“Exactly nothing, to be frank. He said he thinks he must have killed her. End of story. Sgt. Raynor showed Danny photos of Breanna’s body at the scene, and by the time the questioning was over, Danny had admitted to tying her up and strangling her. It means nothing. Anyone looking at those photos could see she was bound and had bruises around her neck. He didn’t tell them anything they didn’t provide to him in some way. And Danny couldn’t give them an address and police were never able to connect him to that location in any way.”
“Who owns the house?”
“A slumlord, essentially. The place was left in a bad state by the last tenants and he decided it wasn’t worth fixing up again. He’s got numerous other properties, including an apartment building, that are earning him money. He’s not worried about that house, so it’s just been abandoned. Now it’s used for all sorts of negative purposes—drugs, prostitution, gang activity and, obviously, murder.”
“So Raynor’s theory is what? That Danny punched Breanna and then blacked out, took her to this other house and killed her?”
“Not exactly. Police don’t believe Danny blacked out. They think he’s making that bit up to angle for a manslaughter conviction by alleging he had the inability to form the intent for murder. The Crown’s theory is that she took off after he hit her, and he chased or followed her, then killed her in the house where she was found. It’s a couple of blocks from their home. Only no one reported hearing any commotion or seeing anyone running down the street.”
“That might not mean anything around there,” Dez said. “I responded to a shooting in that neighbourhood a couple months ago, and no one heard the gunshot. When bad stuff becomes common, people stop noticing.”
Olivia smiled sadly. “Unfortunately, what you say makes complete sense.”
“How long was it between the fight with Danny and her body being found?” Sully asked.
“Two days. And there was some decomposition beginning already, so it’s believed she died the night of the fight with Danny. The pathologist can’t give an exact time of death, so it’s possible she died sometime the following day.”
“I know Sully and I have our doubts,” Dez said. “But I’m curious, what makes you so sure Danny didn’t do it?”
“Between you and me, Constable, I’m not,” Olivia said. “But he’s sure, and he’s my client. He said he loves her more than his own life, that there’s no way he could have killed her. Not in any state. And if there’s anything I’m sure of, it’s that he genuinely feels that way. My job is not necessarily to see him acquitted, it’s to ensure the Crown’s case is solid and that all the avenues have been explored. I don’t think I need to tell you I’ve got umpteen other cases on my plate at the moment. I don’t have the time or resources I wish I had to devot
e to Danny, so all the help you can provide is more than welcome. It may be a long shot, but if this tattoo thing goes anywhere, please let me know.”
Olivia scanned her watch face, and Dez took that as their cue to exit.
“Thanks for your time,” he said, standing.
“No, thank you,” she said, reaching out to shake his hand.
Sully stood slowly, taking the hand Olivia offered, but not letting go right away. “Can I ask you one more question? Danny’s daughter. By any chance is her name Iris Edwards?”
“Yes, it is. How did you know that?”
Sully released the lawyer’s hand, his expression suggesting a smile that didn’t quite get there.
“A little bird, I guess,” he said.
8
“How’d you know to ask about Sparrow?” Dez asked once he and Sully were back in the SUV, rain pounding off the roof and the windshield, obscuring the grey city outside the vehicle.
Sully massaged at his temples, trying to ease away a mounting headache. “It just occurred to me. Breanna’s so determined we find Sparrow, I just figured there might be something more to it.”
“Bulldog never mentioned Sparrow was his niece,” Dez said.
“Maybe he doesn’t know. She isn’t Breanna’s daughter, after all. Sparrow would have been born a few years before Danny and Breanna even met.”
“But it seems like Breanna cared about her, right? I mean, she must if she’s going all in to have us find her.” Dez checked his watch. “Damn. Eva’s going to be leaving for work pretty quick. I need to get home to watch Kayleigh.”
“We’re not far from The Hub,” Sully said. “I’ll head over there and ask around about Sparrow, see if anyone knows anything about her.”
“No, Sull. No way.”
“Dez—”
“You’re not doing this by yourself.”
“I’m never exactly by myself, you know.”
Sully glanced over in time to catch Dez’s glare. “Yeah, well, I’m not counting a ghost who strangled you as adequate backup, all right?”
“Dez, if everything turns out the way I think it’s heading, then this Sparrow girl’s in big trouble. You know there’s no time to waste on this.”
“No offence to Sparrow, but it’s you landing in big trouble I’m more worried about.” But Dez’s sigh suggested some resignation. “Look, I’ll drop you off at the Hub as long as Bulldog meets us there, okay? I’ll head home and take Kayleigh to Mom’s, and then I’ll come and meet you guys. But one condition. Stay out of trouble until I get back, all right?”
Dez managed to track Bulldog down on the phone, and his friend was waiting at The Hub as promised when they arrived.
“You’re quick,” Dez said, standing just inside the entryway to the building with Bulldog and Sully.
Bulldog shrugged. “I was in the area.”
“Listen, I need to head home for a bit, so I’m leaving Sully with you. Look after him, all right?”
“Come on, Dez,” Sully grumbled.
“Shut up. After that stunt last night, you get no leeway with me for a while.”
Sully rolled his eyes, but Dez’s attention was already back on Bulldog. “I’m serious. He doesn’t leave your sight. We’re on top of something here, which Sully can explain to you right away. I don’t want him on this by himself.”
“I’m on the job, Chief,” Bulldog said with a mock salute.
“I mean it, Bulldog.”
“I’ll watch your kid brother, all right? Chill out and go look after your kid. Jeezus.”
Sully accepted one more pointed glare from Dez before his brother dashed back to his SUV and drove off in a mad hurry.
“I wish he’d stop treating me like a kid,” Sully said as he watched the taillights disappearing from sight through the window.
“He can be a little intense.”
Sully turned to Bulldog, eyebrows raised. “A little intense? I’m twenty and he treats me like I’m twelve. I mean, he just stuck me with a babysitter.”
Bulldog shrugged. “Maybe he thinks you need one. I know a lot of guys far older than you who could use one.” He dropped a beefy hand on Sully’s shoulder. “Look, Copper can be a little over-the-top, but he’s a good guy, and he cares about you. Everyone should be so lucky as to have someone like that in their life. And he’s a big brother. I am too, and I couldn’t protect my little sister. If I got a second chance, I’d be acting the same way right now.”
Sully managed a smile, a real one this time, and Bulldog returned it with one of his own.
“So,” the older man said. “What’s this you need to fill me in on?”
The door opened as three people resembling drowned rats sloshed past them, leaving Sully visually searching what he could see of the building’s interior. “Let’s find somewhere quiet.”
Sully gave Bulldog a rundown of their conversations with Paul Dunsmore and Olivia Tan, leaving the part about Iris until the end. He wanted to break that bit to Bulldog a little more slowly.
The Hub had a small soup kitchen, and Sully and Bulldog found a so-far quiet table in the corner. As Sully talked, Bulldog slumped lower and lower in his seat until he was all but under the table.
“You really think Danny didn’t kill her?” It was the first thing Bulldog had said since Sully started detailing the information they’d learned after dropping Bulldog off at his friend’s last night.
“I really think that, yeah. And there’s something else.”
“God, what?”
Sully smiled his sympathy, then launched into the final reveal. “You remember I asked you if you knew this Iris girl?”
“Sparrow? Yeah.”
“Iris Edwards is Danny’s daughter.”
Bulldog’s gaze had been in his lap, but now it lifted to Sully’s face. “Jesus, what?”
“Olivia Tan told us. I guess Danny lost custody quite some time ago and never got it back. I don’t know anything else about her, unfortunately. Obviously, you didn’t know that either.”
“Do you think Bree knew?”
“It would explain why she seems so desperate to find her,” Sully said. “I mean, Sparrow isn’t her daughter, but she’s Danny’s so I guess there’s some kind of bond there. They knew each other through the street worker program, you said. Breanna must have discovered who she was. I was hoping someone here might be able to help us. I mean, the program your sister worked with is based out of here, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Bulldog said. The word was no more than a whisper, barely a reply.
“You okay, man?”
“So I’ve got a little niece, and she needs my help?”
“I think so, yeah. Do you know who we could start asking?”
Something in Bulldog’s face changed, desolation giving way to determination as he sat up straight in his chair. “I’ve got some ideas. Follow me.”
Bulldog led them through The Hub, easing people out of the way as they moved. The soup kitchen tables were filling rapidly even though meal service wouldn’t begin for hours. The front entry was packed, and the program spaces were starting to flood with people who likely had no affiliation with any of the programs offered.
“This is when they should be doing their municipal homeless count,” Bulldog said. “Nothing brings people together like a pounding rain and risk of flood.”
He led Sully through the door to the Street Worker Exit Strategy, then to one of two offices that lined the small reception area. One of the office doors, Sully noted, was closed. Its nameplate read Breanna Bird and the surface of the door had become a makeshift shrine with art, flowers and other offerings taped there.
The other office was open, and a woman behind the desk looked up as Sully and Bulldog entered.
“Billy,” she said, standing and offering a hand, her face immediately reading sympathy and sorrow. “How are you?”
“Well as can be expected, Myra. How are you?”
“About the same. Still miss Bree like you wouldn’t believe.
” Her eyes moved to Sully, and Bulldog introduced them. “Myra Shingoose, Sully Gray. Sully’s a friend, works down at the Black Fox. He gives me a bed some nights.”
Myra’s responding smile, while still tinged with grief, was a warm one; so too was her handshake as Bulldog continued the introduction.
“Myra runs the program and sits on the board for The Hub overall,” he said. “She was Bree’s boss.”
“And friend,” Myra added. A tear slipped from her right eye and started down her cheek, and Myra showed surprise as she swiped it away. “I’m sorry. I cry so much lately, sometimes I don’t even realize I’m doing it.” She waved to a couple of chairs in her office, newer and more comfortable-looking than the ones in the Legal Aid office. But then, The Hub hadn’t really been around all that long, had only been set up once various levels of government were forced to recognize the sheer weight of the growing poverty problem in KR. Like any financial slump, the wealthiest had managed to avoid the full brunt, which fell first and heaviest on the frontline—the workers put out of a job, the would-be workers now struggling to find employment, and those who couldn’t work who relied on stretched government funding. Meanwhile, the fattest cats in the city had managed to conceal their wealth in out-of-country bank accounts that rendered it untouchable, then proclaimed themselves just as hard-done-by as their remaining overworked employees.
Sully had plenty of opinions about the rich and few of them were positive.
“What is it I can help you with?” Myra asked, sitting behind her desk.
Sully left it to Bulldog to explain, and the older man waited a moment until Myra had plucked a tissue from a box on the desk and given her nose a gentle blow.
“My buddy Sully here recently got some information that Danny might not be the guy who killed Bree,” Bulldog said.
Myra’s expression read stunned. “But everyone says he admitted doing it.”
“It’s a bit weird, I guess, but Sully—”
Sully cut in before Bulldog revealed more than Sully was prepared to divulge about himself to this relative stranger. “I can’t say who it was who told me. But I was told the man who murdered Breanna was actually a white guy. I don’t have any real description but that he’s about medium build and has a tattoo on his inner right forearm of a lit black candle dripping wax. I’m wondering if you know of anyone with that kind of tattoo.”