by H. P. Bayne
“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 devote 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 ne
ed 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.”
Myra appeared to be giving it some thought when they were interrupted by a voice from behind them.
“I know of someone.”
Sully and Bulldog turned to see a man in his early twenties standing in the doorway, bearded with long, dyed black hair pulled back into a hairnet and his clothing covered by a stained apron.
Myra paused for a brief introduction. “Zane Mazur, our soup kitchen manager.” Then to Zane, “Who?”
“His name’s Ken Barwell. Pardon my French, but he’s a real asshole. Most of the girls here know to stay away from him. Bad date, they say.”
Sully sensed movement out of the corner of his eye and fought to keep from looking directly at Breanna, who had just appeared next to Myra’s desk.
“Do you happen to know where he lives?” Sully asked.
Bulldog cleared his throat and Sully sensed it was intended as a warning to him: not without Dez. Even so, it didn’t hurt to get the information now so they were ready to go later.
“I don’t, but I know one of the girls here went home with him once. She ended up in counselling for months.”
“I know who you mean, Zane,” Myra said. “I’ll talk to her, see if I can get that information.”
“Can I ask about something else?” Sully said. “Iris Edwards. Was she a client here?”
“Was?” Myra said. “She still is.”
“When did you last see her?”
“Two days ago at our last group session. Why?”
“Has anyone seen her since? I’m hoping to talk to her.”
Myra looked to Zane. “The two of you are friends, I think. Have you heard from Sparrow?”
Zane wasn’t so ready with
his answer this time, focusing in on Sully through narrowed eyes. “Why do you need to know?”
“I think she’s in trouble. I’m thinking it’s possible she went to Barwell’s.”
Zane’s expression turned dark. “Like I said, most girls know to stay away from him. I wish I could say the same about Sparrow.” Sully guessed he’d passed whatever test Zane had in mind when the kitchen manager continued talking. “I haven’t heard from her since that last day she was here. She usually stays at a house some of the girls rent down on Fifteenth. I asked one of the other girls there, and she said Sparrow hasn’t been around and no one’s really seen her.”
The shock was clear in Myra’s voice. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
“No one was freaking out about it yet. Sparrow started using again recently, and it’s not exactly unusual for people to disappear for a few days while on a binge.”
“I was worried about that,” Myra said. She turned to Sully and Bulldog. “She hasn’t really been around much the past month and has only been turning up for some of her sessions. She’s seemed off to me. I tried to ask about it but she brushed me off, said everything was fine. Silly girl.”
Something in her eyes suggested something had clicked in. “You don’t think it could have something to do with Bree, do you? I mean, Barwell’s connected and he likes the girls, if you know what I mean. You really think she might have gone there with him?”
Sully met Bulldog’s eye a moment before returning attention to Myra. “It would probably be a good idea for you to get us that address as soon as possible.”
“Zane?” Myra asked. “Is Abby around?”
“Yeah, I’ve seen her. Want me to ask her for the address?”
“If you don’t mind, thank you. She’s more likely to trust you with it than me.”
Zane tapped Sully’s shoulder. “You want to join me? I can introduce you if you want. She might know more than just the address, and might share if she thinks she can trust you.”