by Garry Ryan
Lane kept his eyes on her Mercedes. Harper worked at keeping at least one other car between them without losing her at a light.
After crossing the river, she turned west on Memorial then north west on Crowchild.
“If we’re lucky, she’ll lead us right to Paul Stephen.” Harper stopped two cars behind her at a light.
“Think she’s headed to his office?” Harper asked.
“I don’t know,” Lane said.
They followed her for ten minutes until she turned right, took an overpass, and turned into the parking lot of an inn next to Crowchild Trail.
Harper eased into the lot.
Stephanie stopped her car at the front doors of the inn.
“Let me out here.” Lane opened the door, waited for Harper to stop, and stepped out. Lane eased the door closed. His back ached. He put his right fist on his hip while he walked up to the front doors.
Harper drove alongside Stephanie’s Mercedes.
Lane saw her look to her right and smile.
Paul Stephen stepped out the front door, carrying a briefcase. His face and head were clean-shaven. His clothes were casual.
“Dr. Stephen?” Lane said to the suspect while nodding at Harper, who was watching his partner in the Chevy’s side mirror.
Paul Stephen looked at Lane and then at Stephanie.
Harper accelerated and cut in front of the Mercedes.
Stephanie’s car lurched forward. Glass smashed, plastic cracked, and tires squealed. Harper’s car was broadsided.
Stephen turned to run. Lane grabbed his wrist. Stephen tried to pull away.
Lane caught a whiff of Stephen’s aftershave and thought, You’d think he’d know a subtle scent is better, much better. He twisted Stephen’s wrist and pulled the so-called doctor toward a pillar supporting the inn’s roof. Adrenaline fueled Lane as he pulled out his handcuffs, snapped them over Stephen’s right wrist, grabbed his left wrist, and locked the other bracelet so that Stephen found himself hugging the pillar.
Lane looked to his left. The Mercedes’ rear tires were smoking as they crushed Harper’s Chev up against the concrete of a light pole.
The smell of burning rubber caught at the back of Lane’s throat as he walked to the passenger door of the Mercedes. Its tires howled.
Lane tried the door. Locked.
He leaned down and looked inside. Stephanie stared back at him, then looked away.
Lane pulled his Glock out of its holster, checked to see that the safety was on, and smashed the butt against the rear window. After the second blow, the safety glass shattered into pebble-sized bits that cascaded into the car.
He reached in and opened the lock for the driver’s door. The screaming tires boiled smoke into the air. A cocoon of white surrounded them. He opened the door and leaned inside.
Lane looked at his Glock. He put his forefinger outside the trigger guard and pointed the weapon at Stephanie’s nose. She lifted her hands away from the wheel. With his free hand, Lane shifted the car into neutral. The engine raced.
Lane kept his eyes on Stephanie.
Her eyes were on the gun.
He reached over and turned the key off.
Seconds later, in the silence, Stephanie said, “Stupid cop. You’ve got nothing on us.”
“Two minutes ago that would have been exactly correct. Put your hands on top of the steering wheel.” Lane kept his eyes on her. “Harper? You okay?” he called.
There was no answer. I promised Erinn I’d look out for you, Lane thought.
×
“How come we changed our name again?” Andrea asked.
Maddy handed her sister a pair of socks from the dresser. She smiled and hated the fact that Andrea put the socks away without argument. Andrea had become very accommodating since Maddy had slapped her.
The traffic noise from Macleod Trail snuck into their room through an invisible gap around the edge of the window. This time, they had an adjoining room with Jones. The door stayed open between the two rooms.
He stood there, in the doorway, his bathrobe open. “How are my girls enjoying their new room?”
Maddy looked out the window. He’s getting ready. Working his way up to it, just like he did with me.
“Put some clothes on,” Andrea said to her father.
“Yes, baby.” Jones turned and walked back into his room. “Your wish is my demand.”
“Daddy’s weird.” Andrea dropped the socks into her drawer and shut it.
×
“I want to know how Jennifer Towers died.” Lane sat across the table from Paul Stephen. The room was a monochromatic, institutional yellow.
Next to Stephen sat his lawyer, Treneman, who actually wore a blue pinstriped suit and carried a black alligator-skin briefcase.
Cliché, Lane thought. The suit probably means this lawyer is conventional. I’ll give him what he expects for the first few minutes. “I want to know how Jennifer Towers died.”
“As we’ve already indicated, Dr. Paul has no knowledge of what happened to Ms. Towers,” Mr. Treneman said.
Now throw in a bit of incriminating evidence, Lane thought. “In his luggage we found three separate passports with three different identities. All had Paul Stephen’s picture on them.” Lane watched the lawyer’s eyes, and then watched Stephen.
Mr. Treneman glanced at his client, then focused on Lane.
Stephen shrugged. “We don’t know where those came from.”
“How did Jennifer Towers die?” Lane watched the lawyer frown.
“We’ve already answered that question.” Treneman looked at his watch.
“Here’s another detail.” Lane looked at Treneman. “The good doctor here is not a doctor.”
There was a knock at the door. Lane stood up and opened it.
Harper motioned for Lane to come out into the hall and shut the door.
“Stephanie’s ready to deal. Her lawyer’s ready to deal. Seems she had no idea that what she tried to do to a police officer could mean jail time. She’ll tell what she knows in exchange for no jail time.” Harper smiled.
“House arrest?” Lane asked.
“In that mansion of hers?”
“That’s right.”
“I’ll check.” Harper began to walk away. “Aren’t you coming with me?”
“I just put a gun up her nose. It’s not likely she’ll want me there.”
Harper turned and smiled. “That’s exactly why I want you in on this.”
Lane opened the door. “Wait, please,” Lane said to Stephen and his lawyer. He followed Harper down the hall to Stephanie’s interview room. Lane stood with his back to the door while Harper sat down.
Stephanie looked at Lane and snarled. “What’s he doing here?”
“I asked him to be here,” Harper said. “Now, tell us what you know in exchange for a recommendation for house arrest instead of jail time.”
“House arrest?” Stephanie stood up.
Her lawyer looked at her.
Where do these guys come from? This lawyer looks the same as the other one, Lane thought.
Harper stood and turned to leave. Lane opened the door. Harper stepped outside. Lane followed, letting the door close behind him. “You see, you didn’t want me in there.”
Harper grinned. “It’s been drama from start to finish. This is perfect. Just wait with me for a minute or two. Besides, the phony doctor may have a vivid imagination. He’ll be thinking about what Stephanie is telling us. I get the distinct impression she’s enjoying her own performance.”
“So are you,” Lane said.
“You betcha. She had her Mercedes jammin’ me up against a light pole. I don’t have much sympathy for her. Had a hell of a time getting out of there. We’ll give her the chance to perform enough drama to get both of them locked up.”
Someone knocked on the inside of the door. Harper opened it. The lawyer said, “Stephanie wants to talk.”
Lane listened for ten minutes and left.
When h
e opened the door to the interview room, the former Dr. Stephen was the first to look up.
“Stephanie agreed to talk,” Lane said.
“I never should have told her.” Paul Stephen’s scalp was sprinkled with sweat.
Lane waited.
“He gave her nitrous oxide to put her out. She was going to blow the whistle on him.” Stephen’s right knee began to bounce up and down.
“He?” Lane thought, Draw him out slowly, carefully.
“Dr. Jones. Jennifer caught him taking pictures of a kid.” Stephen rubbed the top of his head.
“Kid?” Lane asked.
“A patient. Little girl. He used nitrous on her, undressed the kid, and started posing her, taking pictures. It was his thing, you know. Not mine.” Stephen looked at his lawyer, who nodded.
“What’s your thing?” Lane asked.
Stephen looked at his lawyer. “What kind of deal do I get?”
“That depends.” Lane leaned forward.
“On what?” Stephen asked.
“Whether or not we’re able to find Jones, Madeline, and Andrea in time.” Lane placed his palms down flat on the table.
Stephen took a long breath and let it out slowly. “My part of the deal was moving the money through the practice.”
“Where’d the money come from?”
“We put in orders for stolen cars from Toronto and Montreal, shipped them out here, and sold them. The profits were laundered through the dental practice. We had a few patients but rumours were starting to circulate about Joe’s habits. It was time to move on.” Stephen leaned back in his chair. “Joe found out through his connections that you guys were getting close.”
“Connections?” Lane asked.
“He belonged to some scotch drinkers’ club. Lots of important people who scratch each other’s backs. He heard from the club that some cop was getting close to uncovering my side of the business.”
“What was Jones’ reaction?” Lane asked.
Stephen smiled. “He had a plan. Joe was confident he had enough money put away that he could move to the States and live somewhere warm.”
“How did Jennifer die?” Lane asked again.
“As I said, she caught Joe in the act. She was threatening to talk. Joe grabbed her and put her out with nitrous oxide. He gave her too much.”
Lane waited.
“Joe knew about Jennifer’s boyfriend and figured if he kept on like nothing happened the boyfriend would take the fall.”
“Who helped dispose of Jennifer’s body?” Lane asked.
“Joe went shopping and bought a bunch of plastic wrap. He cleaned her up and conned me into helping him dump the body in some dumpster.”
Lane thought, Say this casually. “How can I find Joseph Jones?”
Stephen closed his mouth. He looked at his lawyer.
Treneman shrugged as if to say, “You’ve told him everything else.”
“I suspect you both went to the same person to get your false ids. If I’m going to track him, then I need a way to contact the person who made the passports.” Now we’ll see just how smart you are, Lane thought.
“No way.” Stephen tried to smile and failed. “I mean Joe is one thing. These people made it pretty clear about what’ll happen to me if they’re exposed.”
Lane’s rage went white hot. As it consumed him, one part of his mind thought, Keep thinking! “You think I care about you?” Hold onto it, control it. Use it! Let him feel the rage in your voice. “Right now, all I care about is Maddy and Andrea! Are we clear on that?”
Stephen shuddered.
“It’s all been civilized up to this point.” Lane had a vision of a toddler in a garbage bag. A little girl’s hair. Her dead eyes. The stink of decay resurrected the memory in every detail. Then he saw the running shoes of another toddler’s body. “Not any more! This is about two kids! Joe’s into porn, and you’ve just confirmed he’s a killer. Prison’s a nasty place for guys like him. He’s on the run with a lot to lose. I need a name and number now!”
Stephen gave him the number.
Lane wrote it down. “Name?”
“Sammy.” The doctor-impersonator seemed to be shrinking in his chair. “Will you tell Sammy I told you?”
“Not unless I have to.” Lane left the room.
×
“You’re shaking,” Harper took a sip from a bottle of water.
Lane did the same.
“Too much caffeine?”
“Too many memories.” Lane looked through the bottle of water, trying to see things more clearly. “I’m forgetting something. Something important.”
“We’ve got an appointment with Sammy. That’s important.”
Lane pointed with his bottle of water, “One of the scotch drinkers tipped Jones off that we were getting close to Stephen’s car-theft operation.”
Harper stared at him. “Smoke?”
Lane shrugged, then checked his reflection in the window of the shopping mall music store. Jeans and a red golf shirt. No Glock. No id. Just jeans and a red golf shirt. That’s what Sammy asked for when she said, “Just stand outside the bookstore in Market Mall, and I’ll come up to you.”
Harper looked at his watch. “I’ll hang back.”
Lane walked north. He took a sip of water, inhaled, and held it. Relax. If you’re nervous, Sammy won’t come near you.
A man in an electric wheelchair with an orange flag bobbing along behind weaved in and around pedestrians. His hand in a driving glove worked the joystick. The man whirred past Lane.
The smell of urine and sawdust from the pet store seeped out into the mall.
Lane arrived at the bookstore, which displayed its bestsellers out front. A clerk chatted with a customer.
Lane looked out into the mall. The supermarket was close by. That, and a department store. He counted five escape routes. Sammy chose well, he thought.
“Five thousand up front.”
Lane looked to his left. A woman in a tank top stood next to him. She looked to be fifty and was pushing a baby stroller. “Sammy?” Lane asked.
“Got a problem with that?” Sammy looked into the stroller.
Lane couldn’t see a child. Just blankets and what might or might not be the top of an infant’s head.
“I’m here for names. Nothing else. A man is on the run with two girls who are in danger. I want their names.” Lane watched as the woman glanced around her, looking for the quickest way out.
“I’m a police detective, and I’m not alone. Tell me what I need to know and you walk out of here.”
The woman’s eyes widened. “I’m not alone either.”
Lane looked around him. A man taller than Lane and sixty pounds heavier seemed to be taking an intense interest in their conversation. “Good. Give me what I need, you help two kids who need help, and you walk away.” Lane thought, Now it’s up to you, Sammy.
Sammy shook her head. “Who’s the guy?”
“Dentist. Original name is Jones. Wears a goatee. My height. Vacant look on his face. Has two daughters.”
Sammy took one second to think. “Brown, Fowler, and Ramsay. You’re right about him. Those girls are in danger.” She turned and walked away.
×
“Mr. Richard Herrence, you were Madeline Jones’ counselor?” Lane and Harper sat across from Herrence and his lawyer. She had moved her chair as far away from her client as the room would allow.
Herrence nodded in the affirmative. “Yes.” He looked at his lawyer as if asking for her approval. She watched the detectives through black-rimmed designer glasses with rectangular lenses.
Lane thought, She finds her client to be revolting. We might be able to get a bit more information if we’re not too obvious. “Madeline has disappeared.”
Herrence smiled with ersatz concern, “That’s very unfortunate. She’s a very troubled young woman.”
“We’d like to find her and her sister as soon as possible. Any assistance you can offer us would be appreciated.” Lane l
eaned forward, watching Herrence’s reactions.
The counselor thought about the question for more than a minute. He rubbed his chin as he considered the problem, just as a professional should.
Lane glanced at the lawyer. She appeared to be using her tongue to work a piece of food out from between her front teeth.
Herrence asked, “How would it benefit me if I assisted you?”
The lawyer gave Herrence a look of disgust, but she said, “You really don’t want to ask that question.”
Good, she’s warning Herrence only after he makes a mistake. Lane looked at Herrence. “That depends on the accuracy of the information.”
Herrence looked at his lawyer, then said, “I don’t see how I can help you.”
“You knew Dr. Jones,” Harper said.
“I never met the man,” Herrence said.
Lane took a breath to keep his voice as calm and even as possible. “There is a picture of you and the doctor in your office.”
Herrence looked to the left at the corner of the room above Lane’s head.
“You and Dr. Jones drank scotch together, usually once a month. Did he convince you to keep an eye on his daughter in case she began to talk? You know, about the pictures he took of her and downloaded on the Internet porn site?” Lane asked.
Lane saw the sweat breaking out at Herrence’s hairline. I’ve already got an answer. “Just how well did you know Dr. Jones? The evidence supports the conclusion that you and Dr. Jones were partners in the sexual exploitation of children.” Lane made it sound like he was about to order an aperitif.
Herrence shook his head.
The lawyer watched her client and waited in silence.
“Dr. Joseph Jones said he wanted me to keep an eye on her. He said Madeline was his stepdaughter, and he told me where to find the pictures on the net. After that, I had to protect him to protect myself,” Herrence said.
“Again, you really don’t want to say that,” the lawyer said.
You’ve confirmed more than you think Mr. Herrence, Lane thought.
Herrence closed his mouth before placing his hand over it.
×
Maddy looked across the table at her stepfather and sister. He’d insisted that Andrea wear a white dress, white socks, and white shoes. There was even a white ribbon in her hair.